A/N: Uugh. My sleep deprived brain hopes this chapter is ok. I lostsome reviews with that last chapter, but I'm at 133 with 5 chapters out, so yeah right, like I'm gonna complain ::grins:: you all are really very much my heroes! So, I hope you all enjoy this one. Read On!
Oh, and Nilrem, you're number 128! ::grins:: thanks!
"Man d'you think she killed him?" Nick asked of no one in particular. Sara had chased after Grissom fifteen minutes ago, and still, neither had returned.
"Probably," Warrick returned with a shrug. "And Grissom may deserve it."
Nick seemed to think this over very seriously for a moment. "Yeah." He cocked his head across the room at his friend. "I can't believe he just left like that."
"I can," Brass returned with a tired smirk, wincing as he shifted his left arm.
Catherine sat hunched in a plastic chair, her usual take-charge demeanor settled back in place. "He's an ass, and we all know it. And we'll all stick with him no matter what stupid thing he does next."
"Which is nice, in a dysfunctional, deranged sort of way," Warrick answered distractedly, his concerned gaze on the homicide detective. "Yo, Brass, you gotta go in there and get that thing checked. Why didn't you say something?"
Catherine straightened up in her seat, peering sharply at a now squirming Brass. "You're hurt Jim?"
Brass shrugged evasively. "This little thing? Nothing but a bruise." He grimaced as another bolt of pain lanced through his limb.
Catherine was out of her seat before anyone could blink, standing in front of Brass with her hands on her hips and her eyes silently screaming threats only known by the mothers of the world. Understandably, Brass cringed. "Jim, get your ass in there and get that checked out now." She cut him off before he was finished inhaling. "And if you say it's 'just a bruise' one more time, I'll–"
"Going, going." He ambled to his feet, biting his lip as every little movement jarred his throbbing wrist. He didn't need some doctor to tell him he'd broken it. But as much as he wanted to wait for Grissom and/or Sara to get back, and for some news on Greg, he knew fighting with Catherine was like beating his head against a brick wall. "I'd never argue with a woman who used to get naked for a living." Didn't mean he'd go quietly.
"Good boy." Seeing his sour face, she smirked. "Suck it up, Brass, the triage rush from the pileup has thinned...and missing the drama won't do you any harm." All she got in return was another filthy look before he turned to make his way to the check in desk.
"Seriously, she couldn't, like, actually hurt him, could she? I mean, she is in a wheelchair," Nick continued on a long abandoned track like they had been discussing it all along. He wished the doctors would tell him something about Greg. He hadn't talked to him in a while, not since the shit hit with the shift change. Damnit. "I mean, what's she gonna do, run him over?"
Warrick snickered, and Catherine rolled her eyes, settling herself back into her hard chair as she tried to tune out the other patrons of the full waiting room."Nicky, do us a favor and shut up. Just because everything's bigger in Texas doesn't mean your mouth has to follow the rule. This is Vegas, baby, so deal."
Not sure whether he should comment on the obvious upside of the 'bigger' comment, he instead replied, "Y'know, Cath, there's a word for people like you."
"Supervisor?"
HE rolled his eyes. "Ahh...yeah...that's the one..."
"Giver of your payckeck?"
"Sorry, that exceeds the one-word limit."
"Oh, well then I guess I'm not giving you your paycheck." The raised eyebrow let him know he'd been had.
"Shutting up now."
"I knew you'd get it eventually, Nicky." Warrick just laughed.
5 minutes later, Brass came back in, looking distinctly disgruntled, and holding up a hand against Catherine's warning glare as he slumped back into his seat. "They're still backed up, I'm not bleeding or in danger of dying, I have a shit load of insurance forms to fill out because I don't go to General, and I'm now a very cranky man. Kindly keep it to yourself?"
Catherine sighed. "Right."
"20 minutes. Bet she's trying to find the best place to hide the body. She'll get away with it, too, I mean, she has the second highest solve rate in the lab next to Grissom, and he doesn't really count. Especially if he's dead now..."
"Nick!"
Nick winced, knowing he was babbling as he wiped his clammy palms on his jeans. "Sorry Cath. I...this is all just so surreal, y'know? I mean, 30 minutes ago, we all thought Sara was dead, and now no one will talk to us about Greg. I just....damn."
Catherine gave him a sympathetic smile, catching Warrick's calm, reassuring gaze for an instant before looking back at Nick. "I know, Nicky, believe me."
"We all do," Warrick at quietly, leaning forward and laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. He had never felt so damn lost when he thought that Sara and Greg had been killed. Now he was just trying to keep it together so he could go break down in peace.
Brass shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, about that. I guess I owe you folks an apology, right? I–"
"Hey, forget it, Brass, you were watching Sara. That's the important thing," Nick nodded his head at the detective, who shrugged, his guilt far from dissipated.
"Thanks, Nicky."
Warrick knew a change of subject was needed. "So who took Lindsey to school, Cath? Neighbor number one, or number two?" She'd made several calls as they raced to the Tahoe, but he hadn't been paying proper attention.
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Neighbor number five. I've already filled my quota with the rest. I'm going to have to move so I can find new people to beg if this keeps up," An anxious note crept into her voice, but she tried to shake it off. Where was the damn doctor? Where was Sara? And why hadn't Grissom at least called?
A tight silence fell over them, except for the scratching of Brass's pen over the insurance forms. Most of the other occupants of the waiting room were silent too, staring at the floor or watching a mounted TV in the corner.
Nick's sigh was loud and nervous. "Seriously, guys, 27 minutes. I'm worried. We ought to at least go look for Sara. Grissom was probably an ass again and just ignored her, but she's hurt! We ought to–"
"Nick," Catherine said quietly, her eyes wide.
"–Look, I'm sorry Cath, I know I'm babbling, but Sara was just blown up, for chissake, and–"
"Nick, Man," Warrick muttered with distracted urgency, his gaze intense as well.
"–No, come on! Look, I''m going to go outside and...Oh."
The four of them stared silently as a rather annoyed-looking Sara rolled slowly down the hall...pushed by a pale Grissom. "Grissom, really, I know how to use a wheelchair! I broke my leg in college, and–"
"Sara," His voice was hoarse and rough, but it held a note of exasperated warmth none of them had heard in a very long time. She said nothing, but made a face at them as he pushed her into the room.
Grissom stopped for a moment, looking around hesitantly for a vacant spot. "You want the couch?"
She nodded, a tiny sheepish smile appearing. "Yeah, this chair makes my ass hurt." He nodded, moving her over to the empty, bearably uncomfortable two-seater, and helping her move from the wheelchair to the cloth covered seat despite her mild protest. Then, looking rather lost, he stood, glancing around for another spot for him. The others waited for some acknowledgment of there presence, not speaking. Brass's pen hung suspended in the air, mid-word.
"Grissom."
"Huh?" His eyes flew back to her quickly.
"There is room for another person here," she replied with an arched brow, looking amused even though her exhaustion was obvious.
"Oh." He held still for another moment, before shuffling over and dropping himself down gingerly beside her. He sat there stiffly for a moment before Sara rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
"Grissom, would you chill out? It's just an uncomfortable couch, and it's not going to suck you into its fathomless depths if you lean back."
"Stranger things have happened," he replied matter-of-factly, even as he slumped exhaustedly against the back, his head lolling to the side to face her, as she settled comfortably back into the opposite corner. Again, she only rolled her eyes.
"Any word on Greg?" His eyes were suddenly on Catherine, who blinked, not at all sure she wasn't hallucinating.
"Uh, no." He gave a little shrug, and nodded.
"Hey, everything okay?" Warrick asked Sara uneasily, hoping the brunette would shed a little light on the odd display they'd just seen.
Again, Sara just rolled her eyes, looking suitably confused herself. A brief silence settled.
"Hey..." Nick said slowly after a long moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You're not dead!"
At first Sara thought he meant her, and opened her mouth to give Nick some sort of soothing response, but Grissom beat her to the punch, his eyes slipping shut slowly as the extreme events of the past twelve hours dragged him down into a blank sleep. "No, Nicky, I'm not. What could she do, run me over?" His smirk was brief but obvious.
"Maybe tomorrow after I've gotten some rest," Sara shot back, but his eyes stayed closed, and his only verbal response was shallow, even breaths of slumber.
Again, Sara rolled her eyes at the four of them, giving one lat, confused look at the sleeping man beside her, before her own lids drifted closed. In the resulting shocked silence, Nick stared, Warrick shook his head, and Catherine blinked and blinked again for good measure. Brass just sighed with a small smile and began to write once more as they all waited for news on Greg.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Floating was a nice sensation. It was comfortable and easy and peaceful, and he rather liked it there.
When his eyes drifted open and all he could see was a blur of light, the first thing Greg could think was that they really oughtn't put so many lights over the swimming pool as it distracted him from floating.
Then the pain hit, exploding through his chest with the fury of a caged lion. "Uuhhnn." He was sinking or falling or flying now, and it wasn't all that great. Yeah, he definitely preferred floating.
"Mr. Sanders? Greg? Do you understand me?" A blue blur crossed his vision, and Greg felt he'd had this dream before. He let out another moan.
"You're at County General, Mr. Sanders, and you're going to be OK."
We got blown up again.
Yeah.
The rush of memories that assaulted him was brutal and harsh. He flinched back against the sound of the explosion and the wet, warm feeling that spread through his chest and burned up his lungs as he lay in the dark with Sara. Was Sara OK? God, she had to be. He opened his mouth to trying to speak to the doctor hovering over him. "Uuuhhgg."
"I know you're in a lot of pain, Mr. Sanders, but just try to relax. You've been in surgery, but everything is fine now. Just try to relax."
Desperate to know if Sara was alright, he struggled against the weight pulling him back into blissful darkness. Swallowing past the pain in his throat, he managed to rasp out "Sara."
The doctor frowned at him for a moment before his face cleared. "Miss Sidle was brought in after you, Mr. Sanders. She's fine."
He let out a tight sigh, mindful of the pain constricting his lungs. She was alright. They were both alright. He hissed out an pained breath as another fire bolt of agony blossomed through his frame. Well, they were both alive at any rate.
"Mr. Sanders, we're going to give you something for the pain now, we just need to take a few readings while you're awake. Think you can hang on for us that long?" Greg didn't respond, but the doctor obviously wasn't expecting anything from him, instead moving around him with gentle touches, and not so gentle prods. After an eternity of dazed pain, Greg suddenly felt a sharp burn shoot through his arm, before a cool wave of relief swept through him, and his eyes slipped shut helplessly once more.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Grissom? Griss, wake up." Something was shaking him out a very nice, very dark place, and he didn't really like it. "Grissom, c'mon, wake up, the doctor has updated us on Greg's condition, and you have to fill out some very late information forms for him."
Greg. That particular name sent a jolt of panic through him. Sara?
Grissom bolted upright, looking around dazedly, fright clinging to his muddled mind. Her concerned gaze stared back at him. "Griss?" Right. Explosion, hospital, Sara. He let out a quiet gasp of relief.
"How is he?" He winced at the dry croak that came out of his mouth.
"He's doing really well," Catherine answered from beside him, handing him a cup of cold water, which he drank greedily. Sara had just finished telling them the extent of her own injuries when the doctor had arrived to give them news on Greg. "He's out of surgery and about to be moved out of the ICU to his own room."
Grissom blinked. That was rather quick. Of course, it was Sara who picked up on his confusion. "We sort of crashed, Grissom. I was out for over two hours, and you've been asleep almost three." Her smile was sincere, but unsure. They certainly had a lot of talking to do. First, Grissom had to figure out what he wanted to say.
"Ah." Yeah, that was a nice start.
"So since you're the first contact on his form, and his mother lives in Michigan, work out the kinks from your fingers, Gil, cause this stack of papers makes the Sierra Nevadas look like a couple of bumps in the road." Brass handed him the thick folder with an almost disturbed glee.
"Will we be able to see him soon?" Grissom fought back a sigh as Brass jovially presented him with a pen, and he opened the folder up to the first page. Apparently, Brass felt it was only fair for someone else to have to suffer the torture of Hospital medical forms.
"Yeah, the doctor says next time he wakes up, we can go in a few at a time," Nick answered, his whole figure tight with adrenaline drain, but his face was split wide with a smile.
"Looks like everyone's going to pull out of this OK," Warrick added, with a warm smile at Sara, his hand resting lightly on Catherine's forearm.
Grissom felt a slow smile of his own tilting up the corners of his mouth as he looked around at the people before him. His friends. His family. His gaze stopped on Sara, who grinned back shyly as his smile grew. Yeah, for the first time in a while, he thought everything was going toturn out finein the end.
OK all, ONE CHAPTER LEFT! WHOO! But, though the end of this fic is near, the end of this series is not. Yeah, you heard me, SERIES. ::sobs:: My muse has taken me hostage. I'm no longer in control of my own writing! Oh well. Oh, and wasn't cooperating, and I couldn't remember where Greg grew up, so I just put Michigan, because I could. I'll probably fix it when I get a chance! Thanks for Reading!