"Don't panic . . . don't panic . . . don't panic . . . ok, NOW you can panic!" Grissom wondered if the line repeating in his head was really from a movie, or whether he just thought it was. Either way, it was appropriate.  He wasn't going to panic. No way, not him, he had resolved . . . until her water broke. Then, panic!

He blanked. Forgot what he was doing, which direction he had been heading before Sara pointed to her legs. Might have forgotten his name if he'd been allowed to stand, frozen, for another few seconds.

"Uh . . . Gil?"

His head snapped toward her as he returned to some form of consciousness. "Yeah! Gil!" he agreed, completely nonsensically.

Sara blinked. "Er, yes. Gil. Do you think we should maybe be . . . getting in the car or something? It's generally recommended when you plan to drive somewhere."

"Right. Yeah. Let's get you in the car." He didn't move.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Sara muttered, and reached out to give him a whack upside his head. "Car, Gris. Now. You can panic to your heart's content when we get to the hospital, but there's absolutely no way I'm driving there, so get your act together."

It was enough to get him moving again, at least. Grissom drove with half a mind while the other half concentrated on the pain the woman next to him was experiencing. He wished fervently that they'd used three different forms of birth control nine months back; there was no way he was going to live through this birth, let alone savor it like the books said he was supposed to.

In between pains, Sara called people. "Hi mom. Guess where I am." A pause while her mother guessed. "Nope. In the car. On the way to the hospital . . . no, I'm not kidding. My water broke. You guys need to get to the hospital. Call a taxi, or I can ask someone else to pick you up."

A very loud voice came through the phone, strident enough for even Grissom to hear. "You're WHAT? You're going to have the baby? Oh my god! Steve! Steve! The baby!" A low male voice could be heard mumbling something.

"Mom. I need to get off the phone so I can call other people. Can you find your way to the hospital? . . . Ok, good. I'll see you in a little while, then." She flipped the phone shut and slid a sideways look at Grissom. "I think my mom's calmer than you."

"I'm calm!"

"Riiiight," she drawled slightly skeptically. "I'm calling Catherine." Opening her phone again, she dialed. It took five rings, but Catherine eventually answered drowsily. "Hi, Cath. . . . It's Sara. . . . Yeah, I'm fine. Uh, well, technically fine." She stopped talking to press a hand to her belly and groan, then gritted her teeth and put the phone back to her mouth. "Sorry. I'm, uh . . . in labor. Contraction, so bear with me."

Another loud voice came through the phone to Grissom's ears. "You're in labor? Where are you? Are you at the . . ."

"Yeah, definitely in labor. I'm in the car right now, on the way to the hospital. Grissom's a wreck . . . What? Oh. Five, I think. When we last counted . . . Yeah, exactly.  Listen, I'm gonna hang up and do some physical damage to him so he knows how it feels. Can you call the rest of the team? And ask Nick to call Susan – he'll know who I mean . . . Thank you, you're wonderful. Bye."

When the phone flipped shut again, Grissom looked at her nervously. "You're not going to damage me while I'm driving, right? You can wait until we get somewhere where my body can stop functioning correctly without killing both of us?"

Sara sighed. "I'll try. We're almost there, anyway." They were indeed almost at the hospital, and Sara checked her watch. "Good, I'm influencing you – we made it here in eighteen minutes when it's usually twenty-five. And I'm still at five, as far as I can tell."

Grissom wondered what she wanted him to do with this status report. "What do I do now? Do you need a wheelchair? Should I park?"

"Drop me off at the emergency entrance, then go park. I promise not to go anywhere until you get back."

She had the door open almost before he stopped the car. "Sara!" he said as sharply as he could manage. "Stop. Let me help you before you fall on your face like you always do when you're drunk." He took her arm and provided the balance she needed to step down. "Ok. Go in. I'll see you in a minute."

Sara stared after the retreating taillights for a minute, reflecting. Her first thought was that Grissom's mood was swinging as quickly tonight as hers had been through the whole pregnancy. Her second thought was, "Oh my god. I'm going to have a baby." Third: "Oh my god, I'm going to have a baby and Grissom is its father."

A voice from behind her scared the hell out of her. "Ma'am?" A young woman who could have been either a doctor or a nurse was looking at her with concern. "Are you in labor?"

Sara nodded. "Uh. Uh, yeah. Labor." She looked around, wondering what was keeping Grissom. "I'm just waiting for my . . ."

"He'll find you," the woman said with a small smile. "Panting, very pregnant women with damp bottom halves are hard to miss." She took Sara's arm and led her inside, stopping at a cushioned bench. "You stay here for a minute and I'll help you get signed in. Have you pre-registered?"

The thought wouldn't come to her for a second and Sara felt her face turn red. No flakiness, Sidle, don't you remember? "Yes!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "Yes, we pre-registered. I'm Sara Sidle."

"Ok, let me go look you up. Is your last name S-i-d-u-l?"

"No, S-i-d-l-e. Um, my parents are going to be coming in soon. Is that ok?"

"Of course! And the father, too, I assume? Unless you walked here, and I doubt that," she added with a grin. "Oh, by the way, my name is Emma; I always forget to tell people that before I start manhandling them! Now, just stay here . . ." Emma was still chattering as she left Sara and walked toward the check-in desk.

Just as another contraction hit Sara, Grissom came through the door looking lost. His gaze flitted around the room, examining each person and rejecting them. When he finally spotted her, his face broke into a boyish grin and he nearly ran to her. "You ok?"

"Yeah," she said on a pant. "Just fine. Can I damage you now?"

"Sure," he said, sounding for all the world like he'd willingly stand still and let her do that. "Are you ok?" he asked again as the concern broke through, despite his attempt at a calm façade.

"Fine. Mostly. Ow."

Emma returned just then, holding out some forms. "Just check these over for me and . . . oops. Not at the moment, I guess," she said, noticing the tightness of Sara's face. Turning to Grissom, she asked, "Are you the father? Can you take a crack at these and just make sure everything important is correct?"

Grissom nodded and skimmed the contents. Their names, Sara's few medical issues, the baby's due date, the name of their doctor, and the results of Sara's last exam were all correct. "This is all right," he said, and was about to continue when another voice rose over the din of the waiting room.

"Sara!" Her parents were making their way across the room with singular determination. Steve reached her first; he might have even bumped Amy out of the way, if Grissom's eyes could be trusted. Squatting down, he took his daughter's hand in his larger one. "How are you feeling? Is everything ok?"

Now that the contraction had eased and she could again observe what was happening around her, Sara had to smile. "Yes, Daddy, I'm fine. You should check on Gil, though . . . he's a little wound up."

A sniffle came from behind Steve. "My little girl," said her mother's voice. "My little girl is having her own little girl . . ." Amy stepped out from behind her husband, rubbed her watery eyes, raised a tissue to her nose, and blew. "My little girl."