A/N: I've decided to take some creative license and give Gil Grissom a life. Before CSI, I mean, smarty pants. :-p When he was younger. I gave him a family. So if you haven't seen it on CSI, don't fret. I made it all up in my head. Muhahaha! Ok then. Here goes nothing…better known as chapter 2.


The guard slid the padded shipping envelope through the slot.

"Hey, you. Package from home. Don't worry," he said, laughing, "we x-rayed it and there's no file. So don't get your hopes up."

Slater gave the guard a contemptible sneer as he reached over and picked up the envelope. He ripped it open, smiling in satisfaction as its contents were revealed.

"A toy cop car?" the guard asked, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "That's…interesting."

"It's from my 5 year-old son, you moron." Slater lied to the guard. He didn't have a son. He didn't have a wife either, for that matter.

He slid the toy under his mattress. It was going to come in very handy later on.


Ring.

Ring.

Gil Grissom set down the bulky Natural History of Mosquitoes and picked up his cell phone. Flipping it open, he put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Gil, it's Brass."

"Jim, what are you doing calling at this hour? Is everything all right at the lab?"

"Yeah, everything fine at the lab. Listen, Gil, there's been an accident."

Those words suddenly brought back a long-buried memory, so powerful that for a moment he couldn't breathe.

Ring.

Ring.

"L.A. County Coroner's Office."

"I'm calling for a Mr. Gilbert Grissom."

"This is he, may I ask who's calling?" 24-year-old Gil answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Grissom, but there's been an accident."

"What kind of accident, Jim?"

"Gil, it's Sara and Sanders. They were victims of a hit and run about an hour ago. A patrolling cop found them lying in the street. They're on their way to Desert Palms now."

Grissom closed his eyes. "Brass, how bad is it?"

"Gil--it didn't look too good."

"Did anyone see what happened?"

"I doubt it. The street was deserted, but we were just about to start canvassing. Maybe we can come up with something. "

"You do that, Jim," Gil said, rising from his leather easy chair and grabbing his coat and keys. "I'm going to be at the hospital if you need me."

"Ok."

"And Jim?"

"Yeah, Gil?"

"Find the son of a bitch who's responsible for hurting my people."

"I'll do my best, Gil."


"You can take a seat in the waiting room, Mr. Grissom. You're listed by both Sara Side and Greg Sanders as one of their emergency contacts." The nurse pointed him in the direction of the seats. "Their doctors will be with you as soon as they're finished."

"Thank you."

He sat down, strangely calm for someone who had just found out that two of his close colleagues, friends even, were in danger of losing their lives. He'd always responded to tragedy this way…well, not always. Just ever since that day. Thirty years ago.

He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings. The walls were white, sterile, and cold. Just how he felt.

"Well, hello." The tall blonde sat down beside him, interrupting his thoughts.

"Sofia." He acknowledged her presence with a half-hearted smile, but he appreciated her presence more than she knew. She was a true friend.

"I came as soon as I heard. How are you holding up?" she asked, concern evident in her eyes.

"I…am fine. I'm worried about Greg and Sara. The doctors are working on them now. They haven't told me anything yet."

"I'm sure that they'll be fine, Gil. They're both incredibly strong people. They're fighters." she said firmly.

"I know." His voice was so low she could barely hear him. "You know, she has the same eyes. Every time I look into them, I see Maris looking back at me. Sara is about the same age she would be if she were still alive."

He fell silent, but Sofia didn't push him to continue. She knew that he would tell her when he was ready. They sat in silence for a while, Grissom collecting his thoughts. He felt helpless again. Once again things were spinning out of his control, and it was a scary feeling. He cleared his throat, and then began to tell Sofia the story. It was a story that he had never told anyone else.

"Sir, I regret to inform you that your wife Amanda and daughter Maris were in a car accident earlier this afternoon."

"What…what hospital were they taken to? I need to see them!" He was distraught. He couldn't think straight.

"Mr. Grissom…they weren't taken to a hospital."

"What do you mean? Why not? Aren't the medics doing their job?"

"I'm sorry, sir…they were pronounced dead on the scene."

Panic. "No…no! I can't…it can't be them. You're wrong." His voice was hoarse, and tears clouded his eyes. It was as if he was blind in a fog, and there was no way to escape it. "You have to be wrong. God…please."

"She was only two years old." A tear slowly made its way down his face. "And now, when I look at Sara, sometimes I see her."

"So…that's why you look at her that way sometimes. The rumor going around the lab is that you're…jealous."

He nodded. "I know."

"Grissom…I'm so sorry. I had no idea about your family." She laid her hand on top of his.

"It's alright. No one else knows. You're the only one," he said, glancing up at her. "I try not to think about it. When I do, I feel…pain. Anger. Helplessness. And it's too much. I had to let it go a long time ago. It was the only way I could keep on going without them."

An hour passed, or maybe more. The two who sat in the small silent waiting room didn't note the passing of time, nor care. Why hurry something that never could and never will be hurried? They sat silently, content to be comforted each by the other's company and unspoken support for one another.

Then his phone rang. "Grissom."

"Hey, Gil, it's Jim. How are they?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that. They're still in the ER."

"Ok. Listen, I found a witness. Some junkie who was a little stoned at the time of the accident. He figured they were dead or just didn't give a damn, I guess, because he didn't report the accident. He couldn't say much about the car, expect that it was a black sedan, thought it might be a Ford. Anyway, he said the car hit Sara first. Greg must have been hanging back a little, because this guy says he never even saw him until he jumped to push her out of the way. He got to her too late. Oh yeah, this guy says that when Greg hit the windshield, it cracked. So my guys are gonna be on the lookout for a black sedan with a cracked windshield. I'm calling repair shops around that area."

"Good work, Jim."

"Excuse me, Mr. Grissom?"

Grissom looked up to see the nurse standing at the door. "Jim? I'm gonna have to call you back." He hung up, and looked up at the nurse. "Yes?"

"The doctors are ready for you. Come with me, please."

He and Sofia got up and followed the nurse out of the room.

"Mr. Grissom? I'm Dr. Brian."

"And I'm Dr. Preston."

He shook the proffered hands automatically. "How are they?" he asked, breathless.

"Well," Dr. Preston began, "I've been working on Miss Sidle. She's stable now. She has a broken leg and multiple contusions and abrasions."

"And Greg?"

"Mr. Sanders has a severe concussion. I'm afraid there has been some bleeding in his brain, but it doesn't appear to be too severe. We'll be able to tell you more when he wakes up."

"Is he in a coma?"

"Not really. We've given him a heavy sedative so he can rest and his brain can heal."

"When will he wake up?"

"Well, it's hard to say for sure, but I think I'd give him another 12 hours." The doctor said.

"Can I see them now?"

"Yes, you can see Miss Sidle now. She's awake and has been asking about Mr. Sanders. We haven't told her anything yet, just that you were here and would tell her everything."

"Thank you, doctor. I appreciate it."

"No problem."


Grissom stood in front of Sara's hospital room door, silently collecting himself for a moment. Then he went in.

"Grissom? Where's Greg? No one will tell me. Is he ok?" Sara sounded scared, worried, and almost panicked. She was lying down in the hospital bed, one leg in a cast all the way up to her thigh.

"Greg is stable. He has a severe concussion but his doctor is very optimistic."

"What happened to him? The last thing I remember is staring into a pair of headlights."

"Well, according to a witness, you froze in the path of a speeding car. Greg jumped to push you out of the way, but he was too late."

"Oh my God." Sara looked shocked. "He'd stopped to scrape some gum off of his shoe. He was…forty feet behind me. There's no way he could have reached me in time. He had to know that. Why would he risk his life, knowing that?" A tear slid down her cheek.

Grissom shook his head. "Sara, you know Greg as well as I do. Even if he couldn't reach you in time, you should know that he at least had to try."

The tears began to come down in earnest. "It's all my fault, Grissom. I suggested we take a walk. I froze when I saw the headlight. I…froze. If I hadn't have done that…Greg would be fine right now."

Grissom gripped her hand. "Sara, listen to me. Greg will be fine. He will. I promise."

"I need to see him, Grissom."

He shook his head. "He's not awake yet. They won't even let me see him yet. And besides, you need to lie still and rest. Ok?"

The nurse came in with a syringe. "Time for me to leave?" Grissom asked her. She nodded.

"I'm just going to give you a mild sedative so you can sleep now. Ok?" the nurse asked Sara. Sara nodded in response.

Grissom leaned forward and wiped a tear from her face. "You go to sleep now, Sara. As soon as Greg is able to see visitors, you'll see him. I promise."

"Thank you, Grissom." she whispered as the nurse slid the needle into her arm and depressed the plunger.

The nurse turned to him. "You should go home and get some rest. Neither of them will be awake for a while. We'll call when they do wake up."

"Thank you."


Quite a few hours later, Grissom entered the lab, coming up behind Nick. "Nick, tell me what we've got."

Nick swiveled around and looked up. "Oh, hey, Griss. We recovered some broken glass from the scene. I ran it. It's tempered, most likely from the windshield. Didn't get much else from it, except that it has Greg's blood on it."

Grissom nodded. "The witness said that his head cracked the windshield on impact."

"Sounds about right. Anyway, we got lucky with this," Nick said as he lifted a pair of jeans. "These are Greg's. I found some paint on the button. It must have dragged across the hood when he hit it, taking some paint with it."

"What does that tell us?"

"Well, I ran the paint, and it tells us that the car is a Ford Five Hundred. A 2005 model. That'll narrow your search a little."

Grissom shook his head. "We need more if we're going to crack this. What about traffic cameras?"

"Archie's on it." Nick said.

"Thanks. And thanks for covering this shift. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem," Nick said, turning back around. But Grissom was already out the door.

Grissom swung open the door to the A/V lab. "Archie, tell me you've got something."

"Well, that depends on what you mean by something." Archie made a few clicks with the mouse and brought up a camera feed. "The good news is that I located the sedan on the camera feed, and the streetlights were bright enough to get us a viable image. Here's the car at the intersection, seconds before it hits the two of them."

"What's the bad news?"

"Well, it's an individual omnidirectional camera. We can only see the car from the front. You never see the back of the car, so I couldn't get a license plate. And the car goes out of camera range before it hits Sara and Greg. I'm sorry."

Grissom leaned forward and squinted at the screen. "Archie, rewind it to the beginning and advance it frame by frame for me."

"Sure." Archie performed the requested task with a click of the mouse.

Grissom watched the screen closely. Almost as the car completed the turn, he spoke. "Stop there."

He pointed to a spot on a shop's window. "Zoom in right there and enhance that image." He leaned even closer as Archie cleaned up the image. "Will you look at that."

"What is that?" Archie asked. "It looks like…letters. And numbers."

"That is a reflection of a license plate. It's a partial license number. Thank you, Archie. Good work." Grissom said as he headed out the door, taking out his cell phone. "Jim? It's Gil. I need you to run a partial license plate. A 2005 Ford Five Hundred. Part of the plate is 425J. Hold on…I have another call." He switched lines. "Grissom. Thank you." He switched lines again. "Brass? That was the hospital. Greg's awake."


TBC
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