Catherine's POV:

"Gris, do you see what's missing?" I asked. The poor man seemed distracted this evening. I knew why; it wasn't a secret that was well kept. I could see his normally clear, concentrated mind beginning to stray. I knew he was thinking about her; I knew that he was thinking about Nicky. I was thinking about Nicky, but I knew I needed to stay focused. I knew that this would be the only way that I could help Sara and Nick.

"Grissom," I said again trying to capture his attention, "There's no tread marks. Neither Sara or the truck tried to stop."

"That would corroborate the story about the breaks not working," Grissom said as we combed the scene again. We had walked down the road several times; we walked silently. There were no words that needed to be said right now. There were no words that could possibly make this situation better. There were a million words that could make this situation worse.

"I think we have all that we need. Shift is almost over . . . did you want me to file the report, so you can go back to the hospital?" I asked.

"No, I want to go file the report," Grissom replied. I knew that seeing Sara so mangled bothered him; Grissom had that look in his eyes. It was the look that he had when he saw the dead girl that looked like Sara. I didn't want him to burn out the way he did last time. He worked that scene until there was nothing left to work. He worked like it was Sara back at the morgue. I knew it was that moment that he realized just how much he loved Sara. This time . . . Grissom was far too late.

"Gil, I'm going to go check on Nicky. Are you going to stop by?" I asked. I wanted to be there for Nicky. I had already seen him at his worst after Kristy was murdered; I was afraid of what he would look like this time. I remembered the way he collapsed upon me after I told him that we found Jack . . . Jack had killed Kristy. He fell into my arms like a child; I remember telling him that things would only get better from here on. He had grown up; he had become so careful with his heart. I assumed that was for the better; I never thought he would love Sara. I never thought that he could keep a secret like that. I wish that they didn't think they needed to keep a secret like that.

"Could you call me when she's awake? I don't think I can see her with all the tubes; I don't think that I could see her family. It would be awkward," Grissom rambled. I let my fingers touch his arm. He looked up at me; he looked truly afraid. I wasn't sure if he was more afraid of seeing Sara cling to life or if it was that he was afraid to confront the fact that Sara could never be his.

"I'll call, Gil. Drive safe," I replied as I walked away. I was thankful to be alone with my thoughts. I spent hours trying to keep it together. I knew that it was Grissom's weekend to be on call. I knew that it could have been him. I knew that that thought was lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. It's funny how something intended to be so benign could have such horrible consequences.

The walk upstairs to the surgical waiting area seemed to take forever. I held my breath the entire time. I knew that Sara was out of surgery. Greg had called me to let me know. I don't know why he called me; Sara and I weren't close. I wouldn't even call us friends. I respected Sara as a coworker, but our relationship was often left at the crime lab door. I wished I would have done something to change that.

"Catherine, I got done early . . . I thought it might be a good idea . . . you know," Warrick said as I walked over to where he was sitting alone.

"Yeh, I know. It was a good idea. Any news?" I asked as I sat down next to him.

"Coma," Warrick replied. That's all he really needed to say. I had worked with Nick long enough to be able to gauge how he was going to react to that; I had known Grissom long enough to know that this news might break him. I didn't really feel anything at the moment; I think as a mother I often took care of others before I took care of myself. Grissom had always joked that I was the 'mother-figure' at the crime lab. I knew I was the one that could stay composed during times of crisis; I know that I was always thought of as the peace-maker when it came to our dealings with the day shift. There would be time to feel later; I would go home and stand under the hot shower. I would cry then, but right now, I needed to keep it together for the sake of everyone else.

"Is Nick . . .," I began.

"Not doing to well. I talked him into taking the valium the doctor offered him. He's sleeping in the chair next to Sara's bed. Brass is asleep in the corner. Sara's brother went for coffee . . . Greg is picking up Nick's sister from the airport. I'm just right here," Warrick replied.

"Has anyone called Grissom?" I asked. I knew that they hadn't. I knew that they were waiting for me to.

"No, I wouldn't know what to say," Warrick replied. He was always in control of his emotions. His exterior was always so composed; it made me wonder what he did with all the emotions. I hoped that he didn't bottle them up like Grissom; I hoped he didn't drown them in alcohol like Sara and Brass. I hoped that he had some outlet, even if it was only standing under the shower and crying.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"You know . . . I always thought that I was supposed to dislike Sara. Grissom essentially hired her to investigate me, but I really like her. She wasn't on call this weekend; I don't know why, but it makes me angry," Warrick rambled. I understood, but I wasn't sure if I would trade the life of another CSI for that of Sara's. I just wished that it never happened; that maybe Sara would have left the scene ten minutes later or the truck driver could have gotten a flat tire. Grissom or Sara; I know Grissom wished that it was him.

"We can't change that. I wish we could," I replied.

"There's a lot that needed to change in the lab, but this is going to force the change . . . for better or for worse," Warrick replied. A lot was going to change in the lab. Warrick couldn't possibly be more right. Sara and Nick and Grissom; I was afraid of the triangle that might develop. I was afraid of what that might do to the young couple and my dear friend. Fear changes people; I wondered how the people around me would change.