Greg's POV:

Antidepressant toxicity and alcohol overdose is what her doctor said to me. He asked me if I thought that it was a suicide attempt. I didn't know what to say to him. I watched them pump her stomach and inject her with a myriad of drugs. The doctor asked if there was someone that could come and sit with me while we waited for Sara to wake up.

I hadn't intended to yell at Nick; I didn't mean to blame him for this. In this situation, there really wasn't anyone to blame. Sara told me bits and pieces about how the baby was conceived. I didn't blame either of them for being drunk; we all cope in different ways. There were nights that the truth was so disturbing that I sat on my deck with a bottle of whatever alcohol I had handy. The miscarriage was no one's fault. I felt bad that Sara didn't think she could tell us what was happening to her. It's been four years and she still cannot let herself be vulnerable in front of the people that have created a family around this lab.

I picked up the telephone. I was trying to think of who would understand. I called Catherine. As a mother, I thought she might have a better handle on what it might feel like to lose a child. She said that she was on her way. There was a distinct edge to her voice. It wasn't the disapproving edge that was normally there; it was more of the concerned mother edge. Catherine didn't let many people touch her, but when you did, Catherine fought for you like a bulldog. Catherine was intensely loyal.

"God, Sara," Catherine whispered as she walked into the small hospital room, "What did the doctor say?"

"Wait and see if she wakes up," I replied as Catherine sat in a chair next to me.

"Did you call anyone else?" Catherine asked as she began to survey Sara's condition.

"No, I didn't know if she would want anyone else to know," I replied. Sara was on a ventilator. The doctor said he was hopeful that it could be removed in a few hours.

"Grissom needs to know . . . Nick and Warrick should know," Catherine replied.

"Nick already knows," I replied. I felt angry again, but I wasn't sure why.

"Greg, what do you mean that Nick already knows?" Catherine asked as she set her cellphone in her lap.

"He found her; I told him that he didn't deserve to be here," I replied.

"He was the father, wasn't he?" Catherine asked as she shook her head.

"He abandoned her. Nick just needed to tell Sara that he would take her out to supper sometime. With Sara it's about the words you say and the words you don't say," I rambled.

"Greg, I don't follow," Catherine replied confused by my rambling.

"He just needed to grieve with her. She's been laying in her bed for three weeks. The only time she gets out of the bed is when I make breakfast for her. The antidepressants aren't working; Sara won't see a therapist. Sara thought that not only did he not want the baby, he also didn't want her," I replied.

"How did you manage to get yourself in the middle of this? You should have told me . . . you should have told Gris . . .," Catherine replied as she trailed off. She knew it wasn't wise to tell Grissom. Grissom had hurt her so badly, but I wasn't sure if he ever realized that. It was more than promotions and cases; his blows were directly to her self-esteem. He left her so broken that I didn't think anyone would ever be able to put her back together.

"I took her to the hospital without asking why. I sat with her in the examination room without asking why she needed to be there. She trusted me to come by every morning to make her breakfast or to take her to the doctor without judging her. She's not infallible like she wanted everyone to think. She gave me a key to her apartment . . . probably so I could find her if she did something stupid," I replied. In the back on my mind, I knew that this day was rapidly approaching. Sara's mental health had crumbled over the last three weeks. She called her mother. Her mother told her that what she did was stupid. Her mother said awful things to her about being single and pregnant. She didn't bother to comfort Sara. Sara said she didn't even know who else to turn to besides me. I couldn't believe that such an accomplished woman had no one waiting in the wings to help her if she fell.

"Stay with Sara. I'll go make some phone calls," Catherine said as she stood up and left the room.

Catherine's POV:

"Grissom, I have some bad news," I said as I tried to figure out the best way to break the news to him.

"Catherine, is it bad enough to wake me up this early in the afternoon," Grissom grumbled.

"Sara's in the hospital," I said quickly.

"What happened?" Grissom asked as he sighed. I knew how deeply he cared for Sara; I knew how much it hurt for him to see her flirt with Nick or cling to Greg.

"Antidepressant toxicity and alcohol poisoning. Gil, she's on a ventilator. The doctor isn't even sure if she will wake up again," I whispered. I couldn't let my emotions get the best of me. I knew I had to go back into that hospital room where Greg was waiting. Greg was at the apex of an emotional climax. I didn't want to be the one to put him over the edge.

"Is she at Desert Palm?" Grissom asked. I could hear rustling in the background; he must be getting ready to come here.

"Yeh, fourth floor. Gil, be kind to Greg; he's giving himself a hard enough time right now," I cautioned.

"Cath, I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Grissom replied as he hung up his phone. I dialed Warrick's cell phone number next. I wanted to get the two easiest calls out of the way first; I wasn't sure if I even could fathom how to break this to Nick.

"Brown," Warrick said. His voice was scratchy and his speech slightly garbled.

"Warrick, it's Catherine. Sara's in the hospital," I said. I knew I didn't need to beat around the bush with Warrick.

"What happened?" he asked.

"She overdosed on antidepressants and alcohol. Warrick, she's not doing good. If you want to say good-bye, now might be the time," I said.

"Which hospital," Warrick asked with a little yawn though he sounded markedly more awake.

"Desert Palm, fourth floor," I replied.

"I'll be there," Warrick replied. The line went dead. I sat there with the telephone to my ear for a few seconds. What do you say to a man that just lost a baby and now might lose a friend. I didn't have the answer. Sometimes, I'm glad that I don't need to break the bad news to families. I was always thankful that I was the one to be able to offer comfort and resolution in the form of interpreting evidence.

"Stokes," Nick said as he answered his phone. He sounded wide awake. He was probably at his townhouse expecting a telephone call.

"Nick, it's not looking good right now. You might want to come see Sara," I said. My voice was cracking . . . I normally could hold this type of stuff in, but this time it was so personal.

"Is she going to die?" he asked.

"It's a wait and see game right now, Nick. You know you could have told us about the baby. You didn't have to try to deal with this all alone," I said. I didn't mean for it to sound like a lecture.

"Catherine, where is she?" Nick replied. He couldn't even say her name.

"Sara's at Desert Palm on the fourth floor. Drive safe, Nick," I said.

"Yeh," Nick replied as he hung up his phone. I couldn't gage what he was feeling. Nick normally struggled to keep what he was feeling inside. Sometimes, I was glad that he was so emotional; it prevented him from doing the stupid things the rest of us did. I went home and cried; Sara went home and drank. Warrick went home and smoked a pack of cigarettes; God only knows what Grissom does.

I returned to Sara's room to wait.