A/N: Thanks for your feedback. I've never written a story with this much action in it, and it's hard for me to gauge a reader's response to a change in pace. I didn't think I'd be able to pull this story off, but it seems I have. I hope you enjoy the rest of your reading experience with me, and the ideas churning in my head may lead to another story soon!

-

He'd seen it so many times before. The bloodsoaked witness/husband/innocent bystander sitting silently, stricken with fear, guilt, and anticipation in a hospital waiting room. Grissom sat alone, covered in a mix of Sara's and Rydell's blood. They'd taken her to surgery two hours ago. She'd sustained a major injury to her femur, a stab wound to her chest, and she had quite a nasty blow to the head. The loss of blood was immense. She was listed in serious condition, and one of the doctors had said earlier, "Prepare for the worst." He couldn't lose her now. Not after he almost saved her.

Nick, Greg, and Warrick rushed into the waiting area, their eyes widening.

"Gil, man…go home and change. Sleep. Eat. We'll call you and tell you if something develops. You look like hell." Warrick stepped up, patting his friend on the back. Catherine had told them what he'd done. Rydell was dead. Grissom shot him before he could kill her. He'd fallen forward, however, and still stabbed her in the process. From where Grissom sat, it didn't appear as if he'd hit anything major. She kept breathing. Always a good sign. When he saw her, however, he couldn't stop himself. He pushed Rydell off of her and picked her up, carrying her bloodied body to his car. Before Catherine could protest, they were gone, off towards the nearest hospital.

"No. She needs me." His voice was hoarse, his eyes worried.

"She might be in surgery for a few more hours. She probably doesn't even know what's going on."

"Can you guys just…disappear?" He looked up at them, then looked to Catherine walking up the hall towards him.

"Gil, I ransacked your house. Forgive me. But I brought some fresh clothes. A nurse down the hall said you could wash up in one of their showers after I take the photos I need and collect the clothes you're wearing." She handed a bag to him. "Please. It'll only take a few minutes, and they'll come get you the moment she comes out of surgery."

He looked at the bag, then took it and headed off in the direction from which she had come.

-

Showered and re-dressed, Grissom returned to his post in the waiting room. Three hours and six cups of tea passed before Dr. Ferguson approached with a solemn look in his eye. He untied his mask and let it fall down to rest on his chest, his hands on his hips.

"Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pantlegs as he looked to the doctor. "Yeah, that's me. How is she?"

"Sir, she lost a lot of blood. We managed to place her femur back together and closed the wound enough. With physical therapy, she'll walk again. The head wound wasn't severe enough to cause any permanent damage, but she may not remember a lot of her attack. As for the chest wound, her lung was slashed slightly on the left hand side. We closed the wound and stopped any internal bleeding." The doctor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "She's in bad shape, but she'll be okay."

Offering his hand, Grissom showed great appreciation for all they'd done to save Sara. "You don't know how much…" Tears threatened the rims of his eyelids.

The doctor nodded. "I know. I know how you feel." He offered a tired, but polite smile and turned, heading down the hallway. "Oh, and she's in recovery. I think you can go see her. She's out, but if you want to talk to her, you can."

His pace was slow, much slower than it had been over the past twenty-four hours. His heart stopped in his chest as he entered the room. There was his angel, the woman who had given birth to his child, albeit without having told him. No matter. Now, he knew. If Sara won custody, surely he would be able to see his little girl on a regular basis. His mind was racing as he stepped up to the side of the bed. Her head was bandaged, soft brown hair peeking out from underneath. He blamed himself for the smaller scratches on her face, which had come from the bits of glass when he shattered the window of the clubhouse. The setup of the clubhouse had been perfect for Rydell's intentions. He wanted a stage. A place where his actions could have been seen, but not touched. The glass of the clubhouse's panoramic window provided this perfect view.

Sara's eyes moved slightly in her sleep. A soft whimper escaped from her lips. One of her unscathed limbs, her left hand, rested next to her. Grissom took a seat on the edge of the bed, dragging his index finger across the back of her hand. When her whimper ceased, he took the delicate hand in his, squeezing softly. She let out a soft sigh, maybe of relief, as if she could sense that he was there. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against an exposed portion of her forehead, his eyes closed.

"I don't know what I would have done if I'd have lost you." He whispered softly, his sharp blue eyes opened to search her face. "I love you, Sara."

Her eyelids flickered again, and he could have sworn that he felt her squeeze his hand. He smiled and moved into the chair that sat next to her bed, making sure not to let go of her hand. He didn't want to let go ever again.

-

"How long has he been there?" Warrick Brown asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Two and a half days. Non-stop. He just won't leave her." Catherine sighed softly and sipped her cup of coffee.

"I think he blames himself for this."

"I think you're right."

Moving to the counter in the break room, Warrick poured himself a cup of coffee. He grabbed a packet of sugar and shook it back and forth, settling the grains to the bottom of the paper sack. "Any news on her condition?"

"She's still in critical. As of about two hours ago, she wasn't awake. But he promised to call us the minute she starts talking." Catherine ran a hand through her hair. "Ecklie's taking his dear sweet time on the investigation into Rydell's killing. I think he's going to want to charge Grissom with his murder just because he broke his nose."

"You were there. What happened?" He stirred in the sugar and sat across from her, adjusting into the chair.

She shrugged. "Rydell had Sara tied to the table. She was nearly out. Lost tons of blood. She looked over at us and suddenly Gil had his gun out. He shot before I could tell him not to."

"Damn. Do you think he'll lose his job?"

"I think that as long as he's cleared, he'd just be on administrative leave for a while. Then, they'd give him his job back."

"But how are they going to clear him?"

Catherine shook her head with another sigh. "I don't know."

-

"Grissom."

He grunted softly, rocking his head from one shoulder to the other, trying to sleep sitting in his chair.

"Gil, go home. Sleep in your bed, not in the chair next to my bed."

"Cath, I'll go home when Sara leaves this damn hospital." He mumbled in return.

"You look like hell."

He opened his eyes, expecting to see Catherine standing next to him, instead, no one. Looking to Sara, his eyes widened. "Sara."

She smiled slightly, pushing herself up in the bed, wincing as she went.

"Here, here…let me help you." He fluffed the pillow behind her and placed a hand on her back to ease her up against the bed.

"Ugh, thanks." She licked her lips and looked at him. "I'm dry, can you get me a drink?"

He felt nervous, like a schoolboy, when she talked to him. He always had. He stood and fumbled for a glass of water, then a straw the nurse had left on the table near her. He swung the table to rest within her reach and sat back in his place after she took a drink.

"How long have you been here?" She turned to look at him again, thankful that her parched insides were regaining their moisture.

"Just as long as you have. About three or four days."

She let out a mock gasp. "Gil Grissom missed four days of work?"

He smirked. "I see you didn't injure your sense of humor."

"Nah, bastard let me keep that." She smiled softly, then let it fade. "Where is he?"

"Dead. Laid out on Doc's table." He shifted slightly, looking very uncomfortable.

"How?"

"I killed him."

"Good." She nodded and lifted a hand slightly to make a motion with her finger. "You caught my signal."

He raised an eyebrow.

Sara smiled. "I signaled for you to shoot him. I wanted you to kill him."

A nod. "Yeah, I thought that's what you meant." He looked at his hands and bit his lip. "Sara…they're probably not going to let it slide."

"They will…I'll testify, and then—"

"No, Sara. I killed a man. And the evidence will say that. I'm saying that. I killed him for what he did to you." He looked at her straight. "Just…whatever happens with this, tell Anna that her father loves her."

She was sure that if it were possible, she would have paled. "Griss, I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry. It shouldn't have happened."

"You don't remember that night, do you?"

His brow furrowed as he watched her features.

"I seduced you, Gil. I wanted you so badly. I got you drunk, I led you to my bedroom, and I took advantage of you. Maybe…maybe somehow…I knew that Anna would come along. Maybe I wanted her. But I got scared when she finally came, and I gave her away." A tear rolled down her cheek as she talked, looking more at the wall than him. "I shouldn't have."

"What happened to her is not your fault, Sara. You thought you could trust them." He reached for her hand and squeezed it softly.

"They'd raised a little boy together, and he was fine. He was healthy. If I'd have known…" She released a quiet sob.

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Sara."

"They even let me name her." She smiled through her tears, looking directly into his eyes now, returning the squeeze he had given her hand. "Anna Gillian. My mother's middle name, a part of your name." Another sob. "Two people who I loved so much…and let them go without telling them."

Gil let his eyes wander over her features, taking in the sincerity of those tears. "And now that I'm here?"

She whispered, as it was all she had left in her. "I still love you, Gil. I will always love you."

He moved to her, unable to touch her fragile body. He struggled with himself for a moment before brushing his lips across hers, allowing his own tears to fall. "I love you with everything that I am, Sara Sidle. Everything."