Here's a quick update for such wonderful reviewers! Figured you didn't want to wait in suspense for too long

Chapter Nine

For the life of him, Greg could not remember being more tired, sick, and in pain, then he was at the present moment. He continued on the road in front of him, the same dirt road they had driven in on, he presumed. It was a slow, painful trek; the sun that had been in the middle of the sky when he started had now set behind the hills, leaving only a faint band of light to see by.

Soon, temperatures would drop, the desert was unforgiving. In the city, temperatures would stay warm, bodies and buildings trapping the heat. But out here, the barren wasteland really took its toll, did its damage. He had thought about stopping, finding somewhere to rest, but an ill feeling inside him warned him that if he did so, he wouldn't be getting up again.

That thought alone kept him going. One step after another, his limping stride another injury he had acquired in his treacherous escape attempt. He had never given up, when he had learned they meant to kill him, and take Sara off to who knew where. Stitch had dragged him outside, throwing him to his knees. As he readied the weapon, Greg kicked the small man's feet out from under him, staggering to his own feet towards the cliff.

Greg knew that he could not out run him, but perhaps he could out roll him. Taking a deep breath he had literally thrown himself down the face of the cliff. His mind screamed at him to tuck and roll, tuck and roll. That's exactly what he did, wincing at each and every rock that tore at him.

He could hear gunfire hitting around him, but effectively missing him. Until the last shot, it hit him in the arm. He was nearly unconscious by the time he came to a stop, his mind still screaming, along with his body as the pain began to consume him. Greg was somewhat surprised the fall hadn't killed him. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but finally, he forced himself to his feet, staggering around he found that he was indeed alone.

Moving was hard from that point out. Even the smallest of movements, a turn of his head, a flicker of his fingers, or the forward motion of his legs, sent wave after wave of unimaginable pain. Part of him wondered vaguely how he was even able to still function.

The road, at first, seemed endless, until he spotted a small building in the distance. This is where he was headed. It was getting harder and harder to walk, but he wasn't willing to give up now, not when he had come so far. It was dark by the time he reached it, trying to swallow down the disappointment. It was in the same condition as the shack was…abandoned.

But a little hope still lingered, a payphone stood off to the side, as Greg made his way over to it slowly. Leaning against it, he lifted the receiver off the hook with some difficultly, his fingers weren't willing to work all that well, and having his hands tied together did nothing to help. He smiled softly when he heard the constant tone buzzing in his ear. It still worked.

Slowly, he punched in the three numbers he knew that he could use without having to pay, willing himself to stay conscious as he heard the rings. He only needed to stay awake a little longer. Just a little longer, he reminded himself as the call went through.

Grissom removed his sunglasses as he stepped out of the vehicle. It had taken only a few hours to locate the suspects' hideout after Brass had gotten the call from the hospital. By the time Brass had notified him, Greg was already being air-lifted to the ER. They had been told nothing of his condition, and Grissom was torn between checking in on Greg, or following Brass to the scene, in hopes that Sara was still alive.

It hadn't taken him long to decide. Brass made him wait, at least half an hour before following, for safety reasons. It felt like forever to him. He had sped to the scene, unaware of how fast he was really going.

By the time he arrived, the scene looked as if it was already cleared. Grissom let out a long sigh of relief as he spotted Sara sitting on a rock outcropping, a blanket draped over her shoulders. An officer stopped him however, before he could reach her.

"She's in a state of shock," the man told him quietly. "She hasn't said a thing since we pulled her from the house. We have an ambulance on the way. The men fled the scene; we have a force looking for them now."

Grissom nodded, making his way towards Sara once again, this time much slower. He knelt down in front of her, the fear evident in his eyes, but he didn't care. "Sara," he called to her softly, unsure of whether or not to touch her.

Sara didn't say anything, just kept staring ahead, mouth open slightly. As Grissom reached up to take her hand, she spoke.

"I tried everything," she muttered so quietly Grissom wasn't sure if he had even heard her right.

"I didn't mean for it too happen, I'm so sorry," she whispered, locking eyes with him for a moment.

"What are you saying Sara?" Grissom asked, grasping her hand gently. For a moment she tried to pull away, but relaxed soon after.

"They killed him, and I couldn't do anything. It's my fault he's dead," she said again, tears starting to fall down her face.

"Who?" he encouraged her softly, even though he had an idea whom she was speaking of.

She had started to cry; turning her head away from him she buried her face in her hands. It was the first time Grissom had seen the welts around her wrists, where the plastic ties had cut into her skin.

For a moment he was unsure what to do; then ever so slowly he brought her into his embrace. She didn't resist this time; only let him hold her as she continued to cry.

"Who Sara?" Grissom asked again, rubbing her back smoothly.

"Greg," she managed after a moment, "they killed him, they killed Greg."

"Sara," Grissom stopped her before she could carry on. "Greg's not dead; he's already at the hospital."

He had hoped it would calm her some, but she only shook her head. "Greg is dead, I saw it, they killed him."

"Did you?" Grissom asked her, "did you see them kill him?"

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but ended up saying nothing. Finally she just shook her head. "They said he was…"

"Come," Grissom helped her to her feet, "You need to get to the hospital."

"We have to find Greg first," Sara told him, holding back some.

"Greg's at the hospital," Grissom said, watching her closely.

"We can't leave him out here," she started again, but Grissom stopped her.

"We'll find him," he told her. It was obvious she wasn't thinking clearly. "You need to rest though." He held out his hand again, smiling this time when she finally took it after a moment.

Nick and Warrick were nearly out the door when Catherine caught them. There had nearly been a stampede when Brass called in, saying that Greg had been found. Grissom had left almost immediately after the detective, they were able to locate the hideout from the partial directions Greg was able to give them.

Brass had sent a helicopter out to get him, after tracing the call back to an old single pump gas station that was no longer in use. Nick had wanted to leave right then, but knowing they still had a case to work on; the pair did what they could.

Catherine came up to them in a hurry, knowing they were leaving to check in on Greg. It had been wonderful news to hear, she could only hope the best for Sara now. "You know that Stanley our news lady talked about?" she asked them.

After a nod she continued, "He's our kidnapper," she told them, handing over the papers.

One was a close up of the two robbers; the other was a criminal background record for Stanley Marden.

"Petty theft, fraud, and black market," Warrick read of his history. "Also known as Stitch."

He glanced back up at her. "So you're telling me he is the one who called the story in?"

Catherine shrugged, taking the papers back. "If you want to find all the big stories first, than you create them, I wasn't able to get a hit off his partner though."

Nick nodded, "Send out alerts," he told her.

"Already have," she nodded at them, "Get going, give me a call when you find anything out."

"Will do," Warrick said as he followed Nick out to the parking lot. The drive there was long and eerie, neither one spoke as they hurried inside on arrival.

Warrick took the lead as they approached the receptionist desk. "We're looking for a Greg Sanders," he told her quickly. "He should have come in not too long ago."

The lady nodded, flipping through some papers, unaware of their impatience. She continued to search through each record, taking her time as Warrick drummed his fingers on the counter top.

"I'm trying to read these," she said, glaring up at him.

He stopped, pulling back and crossing his arms. One look at Nick told him that the Texan was also irritated. Finally the lady spoke up, pulling out a paper.

"Mr. Sanders, air lifted here. He's in surgery. You can wait or come back later."

"We'll wait," Nick spoke up.

The lady nodded, pointing them in the right direction. Taking a seat in the chairs provided, Warrick let out a sigh as he clasped his hands. Waiting was always the hardest part. They weren't there long when a nurse met up with them.

"You're here for Mr. Sanders right?"

They both nodded expectantly. "Any news on him yet?" Nick asked.

"We won't know until he gets out of surgery," she told him with a soft smile. "Are you family?"

"Friends," Warrick managed.

"Will his family be here soon?"

Nick shook his head, "They're not local," he didn't want to explain the fact that his family was just being notified, and even worse was the simple thought that no one would probably fly in. Greg hardly talked about his family, but from what he had understood, his family wasn't the best thing in his life.

The nurse nodded, offering up a clip board, that Warrick ended up taking. "I need these forms filled out for him, do the best you can, and turn them into the front desk when you finish."

Warrick flipped through the pages, feeling queasy as he came to the consent forms, ones that required information about if the patient didn't survive surgery. Warrick quickly closed the packed, swallowing, looking up to find Nick watching him.

"He will make it," Nick told him. "Sara too, we just have to wait."

"Waiting is the hardest part," Warrick told him softly.

TBC