"What does take so long?" Catherine ponders impatiently and anxiously, pacing in the waiting lounge.

Grissom gives her a supporting look and consolingly pats her arm. He doesn't tell, but Nick's case has afflicted him more than anything in his carreer as a CSI supervisor. He has never thought about what his team does exactly mean to him. Surely, he is the man of team-work, claiming that cooperation is the essence of efficient and succesful investigation work, but he never went into deeper thoughts. Till now.

Since Ecklie split the team, nothing has been the same. Each member felt that, Grissom could tell. He could have screamed his rage at Ecklie for this despose, but that would have just ascertained the boss about having done the right thing, verifying that Grissom's uncontrolable and untolerable temper disqualifies him for the supervisor-position indeed. Though he was engulfed by anger at that time, he rather bit his lip and controlled his fury than delighting Ecklie with an emotional outburst.

'Ecklie wanted to play. But he had committed a big mistake: he hadn't carefully measured the opponent he chose.' Grissom knew, it's a game of strategies. 'Ecklie got a score by team-split. But now, the time has come to balance that.' After all that has happened Grissom refuses to go on with work without his original, real team. They belong to each other.

The supervisor lets out a barely audible, but painful sigh. He feels like having gotten several years older during these last 2 days.

'Damn Ecklie,' he grumbles inside. If he hadn't wanted to flaunt his power, Nick wouldn't have been on the edge of death, the split team members weary and sick of anxiety, and he Gil Grissom himself wouldn't feel like having failed at his job as a supervisor.

'I couldn't even take care of my guys - and no, team-split is no excuse for that. I should have contradicted Ecklie and covered my team - no matter if my credulity had been questioned.'

'Anyways, I'm a terrible supervisor,' he claims bitterly. 'No matter what i did - if I withstood him or not, I'm not a worthy person for this position. I couldn't protect my team back then, just as I couldn't do it now either.'

'I was such a coward for not standing out against Ecklie. I should have stood by my team. I had been with them day by day, seen their devotion, enthusiasm and persistence toward their job as CSIs; I know their intentions, strength and how hard they are able to work. I'm completely aware of the fact that all appreciation that my team's got is meant for the extraordinary team-work, which reasons are support, respect, loyalty and care for each other.'

Grissom always appreciated this solidarity of his team - the fact that they can count on each other no matter what may happen. He never doubted that any member of the team would have done anything if the other needed help - even if it was meant risking his or her own life. They possess a bond of good-fellowship and friendship. Though Ecklie separated the team, he couldn't erase the care they have about each other from their hearts.

'I want my team back,' his own words are echoing in Grissom's mind. He has been thinking about it for a while, but the horror that happened to Nick was the last drop in the glass. 'No more waiting.'

'I should have done this step earlier,' he frowns, 'not wasting time until something terrible happens.' Which actually did.

'I should have been more firm to Ecklie and not let him playing board-game with my team, moving its members just like figures in chess. God, if Nick had died, I'd never forgiven him. Neither myself,' he sighs with a stony expression.

'I've been hesitating for too long. But now I know what I must do.'

He glances at Catherine - the strongest woman he has ever known. Maybe she isn't the most perfect CSI, she also made mistakes in past - who didn't? -, but she's definitely the most ambitious, thoughtful, tough and persistent female CSI he has ever met.

The examination room's door opening puts Grissom out of his reverie.

Noticing the two CSIs, the doctor walks to them, "You're from the Crime Lab, right?"

"Yes," Grissom nods. "How is our friend?"

"I'm Dr. Richards," the doctor introduces then replies, "His wounds have been taken care of, he got some antipoison for the intoxication. I must tell you," he sighs, "if he had gotten here just an hour later, I'm not sure we could have done anything to save his life."

"But he'll be okay now, right?" Catherine asks, a bit frightened.

"Having examined him thoroughly, we haven't found any other physical injuries. I presume, he has psychic issues to deal with after the enormous shock - he needs time to get over them. He also has been given some sedative to have a good sleep."

The blonde supervisor lets out a relieved sigh, "May we see him?"

"Yes. But only for some minutes. He needs rest."

After saying goodbye to Warrick, Sara enters her flat and drops the keys onto the kitchen table. Grabbing a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge and filling a large glass with the cold liquid, she leans on the counter and gulps down some of the refreshing drops.

With all the dirt and sweat of fear and struggle, her skin feels hard to bear - she really longs for cleaning off that mess. The thought of having a warm bath as Warrick suggested is tempting, but knowing she couldn't lay relaxing in the tub now, she rather chooses to take a shower.

Standing under the shower, with eyes closed, letting her face hit by the warm water, Sara tries to relax. But she just can't forget about Nick.

'Dear God, let him be okay,' she prays.

Recalling the events of the past 24 hours - how this whole nightmare had started, learning about Nick's kidnapping and then seeing him in the plexi torture chamber 6 feet under...- Sara's heart wrenches again. But this time, giving up fighting her emotions eventually, she lets them come to surface and overwhelm her body and mind.

The enourmous fear and terror that has been building up and escalating inside and which she's been trying to hide - maybe for being scared to be considered weak, the last thing she ever wanted to be - couldn't be suppressed anymore. The adrenaline of terror rushes through her veins, her muscles and nerves refuse to keep pretending to be strong and Sara's body begins to shake uncontrollably, while heavy, hot tears are bursting out of her brown, painful eyes and rolling down on her cheek, mix with the waterdrops of the shower. The initiate silent cry turns into loud, exasperate sobs, accompanied with sorrowful whimpers. Heavy streams of water are soaking her delicate body and reddish brown, shoulder-length hair, sweeping off the dirt and drops of sweat from the surface of her smooth skin. The bathroom is getting filled with steams of hot water, providing equal, balanced temperature in the room. However, Sara trembles as if she was standing in the cold, naked and alone.

Shivering under the hot water, completely ignoring the world outside, Sara cries the tears for all of her fears and sorrows. These burning, heavy teardrops call for both past and present.

Feeling the tension easing in her muscles as the tears fall, sobbing inconsolably, she leans her forehead onto the tiles of the wall. Hot skin meets the cold surface, Sara shivers slightly, but the sensation being calming and sobering she doesn't back away.

'Why me? Why is it always me? All my life... I could never get a piece of true happiness. Always tried, always took the risk, but... except for my years at the Harvard and my job, I never gained anything. I never got the care and attention I've been craving for. No caring, decent parents, no real friends, no genuine guys to love me... All I got from life was my job as a CSI. The only thing I wanted and got.'

Her desperate tears roll down on her flushed cheeks, and meeting the tiles, follow their way down to the bottom of the shower-stall.

'And when I thought my life finally got into the right track, the whole loop of bad luck has come over me again... Alcohol-problems, loneliness, the insane crush on Griss in vain, the dates with that bastard Hank and the loneliness and lack of self-confidence again.'

'All that means the world to me are my friends and my job. I've never had real friends till I met these guys I call not only colleagues, but my family too. Each of them - even Catherine; though we don't get on well with each other at times. They are the family I never really had. Even if we have confrontations, I know they care about me the same way I do about them, and we always can count on each other.'

'And there's a certain guy from Texas that I consider my best friend. Nick Stokes...'

Sara has a sudden lump in her throath at the thought of what that bastard did to her always smiling and cheerful friend, replacing his smile with desperate screams of fright and dragging him into a real horror story, which you can't ignore by switching to another channel, but have to watch along. And you can only watch... While time is running out.

'He was always there for me if I needed someone to listen or talk to. Such a selfless, caring guy... Why him? Why do always the good guys suffer? And why the ones I care for?'

'He didn't deserve this', Sara sobs, 'I don't deserve this either... losing someone again... Or do I?'

The tension and long-suppressed fear leaving her body slowly, the tears are abating and her body's tremble is about to subside.

'Why am I so unfortunate', she sniffs. 'What have I done? And why Nick? The closest friend of mine... Or.. more?'

Frantically, Sara turns the tap to cold, letting herself hit by the cold streams.

'Sara, you're having those thoughts again... Calm down. you mustn't mistake worry as love. You're too upset to think clear.'

Sighing, she starts rubbing her body with a sponge infiltrated with refreshing lemon bathing gel; her moves are strong as if scraping her skin would disburden her from all pain and fear.

'Hold on, Sidle, you must hold on', she hisses, shivering by the cold water falling over her. 'You must be strong. For him. He needs a friend now more than ever. You mustn't let him down.'