Hi guys. I can't thank you enough for the reviews. They really are a great boost. This chapter is a bit longer than usual and I owe it all to your positive feedback. I will warn you that it probably does give new meaning to the word angst. I've tried to temper it with humor. I'm hoping it passes for humor anyway. Enjoy. And please, continue to review. Thanks.



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Jim Brass stood next to SWAT Commander Ray Martinez, while Warrick and Nick leaned against a nearby police cruiser. The two CSI's feigned disinterest in the conversation between the men.

"Ok, so we've got the car here in thirty minutes. As far from the building as possible I'd guess?" Brass asked.

"Right," Martinez confirmed. "I've got six sharpshooters positioned high and away. Plus, three containment units in the building. Any of 'em have a clean shot, he's history."

"And what if they don't have a clean shot?" Warrick spoke up quickly.

"And you are?" Martinez looked at him with mild disdain.

"Warrick Brown, CSI. Pleased to meet you too."

"He and Nick Stokes are part of Gil Grissom's team," Brass added.

"Let us do our job, Mr. Brown," Martinez frowned and lit a cigarette. "I don't tell you guys how to take semen samples," he cocked his head toward Nick and Warrick.

Nick scowled and took a step forward. Warrick and Brass quickly cut in front of the CSI.

"Come on," Warrick said, placing a hand on Nick's arm. "Don't let him get to you, man.

"They don't even belong here, Brass," Martinez took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

"Excuse me?" The voice came from Catherine. She continued walking, past Nick, Warrick and Brass, until she was face to shoulders with Martinez. "Who the hell are you to tell me that I don't belong here? And, before you ask, I'm Catherine Willows, CSI. I've worked with this department for over six years and you will treat me with respect." My colleagues deserve no less. And that goes for the two still in that building. Don't you fucking forget it."

Martinez met her gaze without expression, then dropped and crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe. "Control your people, Brass," he said flatly and walked away.

"You just remember who's in there, man," Warrick shouted. "We do and we're watching."

"Jesus, Cath," Brass sighed. "What the hell was that? I thought you were supposed to be sleeping?"

"I did sleep, Jim. Twenty-eight minutes. Thanks, the cot was lovely. And that," she pointed at the retreating back of Martinez, "is a major asshole with underlying emotional disorders. I've never liked that smug bastard."

"Too much caffeine for you, Cath," Nick noted with a slight smile. "But, thanks for the speech. I liked it."

"Man, you know this is one lady who's always got our backs," Warrick echoed and draped his arm around her.

"I think she may have caused that poor bastard's testicles to shrink," Nick laughed.

"Mine too," Brass rubbed his forehead, "think you can do the same thing for the tumor that's throbbing over my left eye?"

"Don't tempt me, Jim," Catherine replied sweetly. "Here," she pulled a packet of Tylenol from her jacket and tossed it to him.

"I know the man's a pompous jerk," Brass sighed. "He does, however, know what he's doing.

"He'd better," Nick said, glancing at his watch, 'cause he'll be doing it in under thirty minutes."

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Charlie was slowly going through his knapsack, muttering and appearing to sort and re-sort his drugs and paraphernalia. His actions were jerky and repetitive, almost obsessive in nature; this wasn't lost on Grissom. Dunn allowed himself a quick look at the CSI, who still supported Sara's head on his lap.

"She don't look awake to me, hotshot."

"She's awake, Charlie. I told you I could handle this," Grissom replied evenly. "Looks like you've got your hands full making sure your drugs are in order."

"Well, if you ain't handled it in another few minutes, then I'll just give her some meth. Perk her lazy ass right up," Charlie growled, but returned quickly to his task.

Grissom ignored Dunn and rubbed Sara's arm. He paused at her wrist and noticed it was a nasty shade of purple on the inside. His mind flashed back to Dunn grabbing the wrist and twisting it back. He cringed and stroked it softly. Sara didn't even flinch. He noticed her eyes were almost closed again and moved his hands to her shoulder. Grissom had stretched and flexed the tape that bound his wrists so that he was now able to spread his hands and fingers further apart. He was mindful that Charlie not see his greater mobility.

"Sara, come on. You promised me you'd stay awake. Open your eyes, Sidle."

"I'm starting to hate you, Grissom. Go away," she said softly.

"Hate me all you want, but you will stay awake."

"Jeez, Griss, is that an order or something?"

"Yes, it is," he spoke directly into her ear.

"So, if I die, you're gonna write me up for insubordination?" she laughed. "Ecklie would love it."

Grissom frowned. "Don't talk like that. You are not going to die. You can't," he stated simply."

"And why's that?"

"It's simply not allowed, Sara. You're too damn stubborn."

"Cite your source."

"The department personnel manual. Chapter four, section thirty-two, subsection three point twenty-two," he clarified.

"Can you quote?"

"Of course I can," Grissom smiled then paused. "Brilliant, brown-eyed criminalists shall not, for any reason, perish while resting a concussed head against the leg of their supervisor while in a hostage situation.

"Oh really? Well, from my point of view, she slurred tiredly, "things aren't looking too good. Unless you've got a Superman shirt on under your clothes," she giggled.

"I never liked Superman."

"Lemme guess, uh Batman or, no, no, no, Spiderman, obviously. Am I right?"

"Both actually."

"Spiderman I get, but why Batman? Did he somehow satisfy your interest in self-propelled vertebrate creatures? "Cause, sadly there was never a Flying Squirrelman."

"I always wondered about that," he managed with a straight face.

"Ok, Griss, why Batman?"

"I liked his car."

"The Batmobile? You liked the Batmobile?"

"Yes, I did," he said almost defensively. "I had eclectic interests even as a child."

Sara laughed. "Well," she took a painful breath, "that seems right."

Grissom wiped his hands across Sara's forehead, clearing the thin film of perspiration that had formed. "I'm glad you think so," he whispered, then surprised himself by softly kissing her forehead. Oddly, he felt no regret or embarrassment at the action. He studied Sara's face, which showed no reaction. Grissom surmised she either hadn't felt it or was choosing to ignore it.

"Personally, I found Aquaman irresistible," she continued on her train of thought. "Tightest costume of all the superheroes."

"I see," Grissom smiled.

"Oh, so did I," she grinned. Sara shifted to a more comfortable position, then shut her eyes tightly, as if afraid. "Grissom, why'd you kiss me?" She felt his body shift briefly and she braced herself for his answer.

"Sara," he paused.

"I don't want your pity," Grissom.

"That's not what it was."

"Don't lie to me, Griss. You never lie to me."

"I need to tell you something," Sara.

"Jeez, I must be about to kick off, huh?"

"Don't say that," Grissom spoke harshly. He felt her body stiffen and immediately wanted his words back. "Sara, I'm sorry. That didn't come out right."

She nodded and looked into his eyes. The helplessness and fear she saw there again came as a shock.

He reached for her hand. "I, uh, I'm not very good at expressing this kind of thing."

"Don't do this to me," Grissom. "Just leave it. Please, just leave it."

"I love you, Sara."

"No," she sighed. "I told you not to do it. You feel sorry for me because I'm lying here looking like crap and you feel guilt or empathy or some other human emotion you're just now realizing you possess." She paused to take in a shaky breath. "You do not love me, Grissom."

"I love you, Sara." He was glad that it seemed to get easier each time he said it. He could certainly get used to that.

"Damnitt, stop saying that! You love your job and your bugs and the perfect order of your life. You do not love me."

"Yeah, Sara, I do," he gave her a wide smile. Yes, he thought, it was getting easier. An added bonus was the comforting warmth he felt from his head to his toes.

She decided to meet his eyes, and found herself surprised and intrigued by the complete clarity now shining there. "You do?"

"I meant what I said and I said what I meant."

"Dr. Seuss," she smiled.

"Exactly, Sara." He gave Charlie a quick look and found him still engrossed in his obsessive sorting and packing. Leaning down, he gently captured her lips with his. The kiss was brief, but unlike any he'd ever felt. "Sorry," he breathed, still close to her mouth, "I didn't mean to make your lip hurt more."

"Not possible," she replied and raised her lips to brush his. "I love you too, Griss," she mumbled into his mouth.

"Well, well, well, looks like you found a way to keep her awake huh, big boy?" Charlie's voice boomed from across the room. "Hell, I coulda done that myself. Mind if I give it a try, Gilbert?"

Grissom tensed noticeably and shot Dunn a look of pure hatred. "The car will be here soon, Charlie. Shouldn't you be shooting something into your arm so you don't keel over in the parking lot?"

"Fuck you, Mr. High and Mighty. He moved threateningly toward Grissom, who pulled Sara even closer to him. Charlie stopped short as the cell rang. He hesitated briefly before returning to the table to answer the phone.

"You'd better be tellin' me my car's almost here, asshole," he spat while taking the gun from his waistband.

"Yeah, well, fifteen minutes is all you get, Brass! I'm tired of this shit," he growled, again approaching Grissom and Sara. "If it ain't there, then I'll be tossin' your pretty CSI's body into the hallway. You'll recognize her by the bullet hole in her head. I ain't fuckin' around anymore!" Charlie disconnected the call and punctuated his last sentence by backhanding Grissom's mouth. The blow stunned the CSI, but he remained sitting upright. Blood again streamed from his mouth; the previous cut having broken open.

"You son-of-a-bitch," Sara gasped and grabbed Grissom's arm.

"Looks like your boytoy won't be kissin' nothin' of yours for awhile," Charlie roared with laughter and returned to the kitchen to rip open the packaging on a new syringe. Sara watched with relief as he rolled up his own sleeve. Charlie pouted his lips at her, then nodded at a still-dazed Grissom. "You'd better have the bitch on her feet in ten minutes, Gilbert, or I will."

Sara tried to reach up and wipe the blood from Grissom's mouth, but was stopped by a sharp pain in her chest. Her sudden gasp shook the cobwebs from his mind.

"What's wrong, Sara? Are you all right?"

"I don't know, Griss? Are you?"

"I'm ok. Takes more than that to hurt Spiderman," he tried to grin at her while gently pulling her hand away from her ribs.

"Oh, God, not superheroes again," she sighed.

"You started it, Sidle," he chided gently. "Does your chest hurt?" She shook her head and Grissom rested his fingers against the side of her neck. He noticed the change immediately. Her pulse was now faint and rapid. Full-blown shock wouldn't be far away. His mind raced and he tried to keep the fear from his face.

"I'm ok, Griss. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"Glad to hear it," he sighed and stroked her face. Grissom noted that her breathing had calmed somewhat. Casting a glance at Charlie, his mind continued to evaluate the best option for getting Sara and himself out of this situation. He could still feel the disposable lighter in his front pocket.

TBC