Nick Stokes and Susan Akers arrived together fifteen minutes after Grissom and Sara had disappeared into the bowels of the hospital; Warrick Brown and Catherine Willows were on their heels, arriving only seconds later. Nick was the first to spot Sara's parents, and the group hurried over to them.
"Hey," Nick said, slightly out of breath and too on edge to bother with pleasantries. "How is she? What's going on?" He looked around the room expectantly, forgetting for a minute that it was unlikely for the hospital to let laboring women languish in the waiting room.
Sara's mother was still dabbing at her eyes and sniffling, so her father answered, taking in the expectant faces making up the crowd in front of him. "Hello, Nick. Sara's fine; she and Grissom are back there somewhere" – he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the hallway – "getting blood drawn and whatever it is they need to do to her before they let me have my granddaughter."
Catherine started to speak, then realized that the three CSIs and one friend of Sara's were still standing in a tight semicircle around the pair sitting on the bench. "Let's sit down, guys." Planting herself next to Steve Sidle, she checked to make sure everyone was doing as she'd ordered, then spoke again. "How far along is she? Is she dealing with the pain?"
"We don't really know," Amy replied. "We only got to see her for a minute or two, then they whisked her back there." After thinking for a moment, she corrected herself. "Well, I spoke to her on the phone when they were on their way here and she sounded ok. Not especially pleased, but ok." She sniffed again.
Catherine nodded. "Yeah, I talked to her too and I came to the same conclusion. Except when she was talking to me, she was threatening Grissom between contractions," she said, looking to Warrick for confirmation of her statement. He, in turn, gave her a look meant to remind her that he wasn't supposed to have a way to know any of this.
While Catherine and Warrick were carrying on a conversation composed entirely of facial expressions, Susan took the opportunity to introduce herself to the people she didn't know. "Hi, I'm Susan Akers. I'm a . . . friend of Sara's." She shrugged embarrassedly into the second of silence that followed. "I just figured I'd get that over with now before things start getting hectic."
Those who didn't know her chorused a "hello," while Nick simply smiled. More at ease now, Susan allowed herself to listen to the conversation floating around her. The older couple had to be either Sara's parents, or Grissom's. She couldn't be sure, but judging by their looks, she thought they were Sara's. The others were faces that were only vaguely familiar, with the exception of Nick. He was less of a mystery to her, and she was glad that at least one person in this crowd was.
Another body came hurtling toward them from the direction of the front doors, nearly bowling over Nick as he stood up to get a better vantage of the whirlwind. "Guys!" exclaimed a voice slightly higher than either Nick's or Warrick's. "Guys! I just found out – why didn't you call me?" Without waiting for an answer, the newcomer began a twitchy dance around them, eyes wide and curious as he took in the room and looked for Sara or Grissom.
It was Greg, of course; Catherine wondered how she could have forgotten to call him. Grabbing his wrist as he twitched past her, she gave it a tug. "Breathe, Greg. As you can see, we're all here and not panicking . . . much. As far as we know, Sara's fine. We're waiting to hear from someone who has more information than we do."
"You didn't call me!" he accused again. Greg's hair was, as usual, standing on end. Upon hearing about Sara this afternoon, he had pulled on whatever had come out of the closet first, yielding an unlikely ensemble. A lime-green and white polyester button-up shirt was thrown over a t-shirt that must have been a refugee from a Black Flag concert; his legs were covered by a pair of brown pants, the fabric of which Catherine couldn't identify and probably didn't want to know.
"Hey, sorry, kid. I had other things on my mind, like a slightly insane friend driving an equally insane friend to the hospital so they could produce an insane child."
Greg harrumphed, but smiled. "Ok, I'll let ya off the hook this time. What say you make it up to me tomorrow?"
Warrick snorted. "Go find your own," he said with a smirk, pulling Catherine a few inches closer to his side. Catherine responded by giving him one of her looks, precipitating another silent conversation between them.
Greg blinked, taking in the scene, then decided he didn't really want to be hypnotized by their staring contest. "So," he said brightly, looking around at the group again, "everything's ok? When is she going to have the baby?"
Just as Nick was about to say something snarky in response, his attention was caught by a movement in the corner of his eye. Looking toward the hallway, he saw Grissom approaching them with dragging feet. "Guys. Look." He gestured toward the approaching man and the group exchanged worried looks.
Sara's father jumped up. "What's wrong? Is she ok? Is she . . ."
"She's ok," Grissom cut him off, hoping to avert the possibility of Steve dropping dead on the spot. "She's in pain, but she's ok. I just, uh . . . needed a break." He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
"Why Gil," Catherine said with a small smile, "you look a little green around the, uh . . . gills. Let me guess – you're feeling worse than Sara is right now?"
"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far," he said with a shamefaced grin, "but I'll leave it at this: if one of us doesn't survive this, it's going to be me and not her. Progress has pretty much stopped," he added. "The doctor says that this is the part of labor that can last for hours. So we just . . . wait. If any of you want to see her, it's open visiting hours at the moment."
Grissom stepped back just in time to avoid the crush as seven people shot to standing positions and headed toward him. "Whoa, guys," he attempted, to no avail, "if you all go stampeding in there she's probably going to kick you right out again." No response from the others, aside from the dirty looks. He sighed, pondering how much he hated being the gatekeeper and knowing he'd be catching a lot of flack during this long night.
But then, half of this was his fault to begin with, he reminded himself with a tiny smile. And he pretty happy about that. Er, well . . . he'd be happy if he, Sara, and their baby all came out of this rather stressful night unscathed.
With that thought lingering, he turned and followed the rest of his friends toward Sara.
