As Catherine begun to wake up, a crick in her neck from the awkward half sitting-half lying position she had dozed off in a couple of hours ago, she was immediately aware of Grissom's eyes upon her.

"You're awake."

"Looks that way," Catherine replied, her voice hoarse. "But I bet you have been for a while."

"Never really slept," came Grissom's grim reply as his eyes moved over to Sara's withered body, further emaciated than it had been before her operation, if that was possible. "Every time my eyes began to shut I thought I heard something. But there was nothing. Yet." He squeezed Sara's hand encouragingly. "But no one's giving up."

Catherine smiled at him. This was definitely an improvement upon Grissom's attitude when she had first arrived. She attempted to stifle a yawn as she too watched Sara's chest rise and fall steadily, albeit weakly.

"You should go home," Grissom suggested, obviously not at all fooled by the attempted cover-up. "You evidently need some more rest."

"What, and you don't?" came Catherine's sarcastic reply. "If you can sit here for hours on end without a wink of sleep then so can I. You're here to support Sara, but who's here to support you?"

"I presume you think that's where you come in."

"We can't expect you to get through this alone."

"I'm not alone." Grissom started lovingly at Sara and Catherine began to realise she was fighting a losing battle.

"But Sara-"

"I'll be here. And I'll call you the minute I get any news. I'll tell her you were here. Don't you worry – she'll know how much you did for her."

Accepting her loss of the argument, Catherine stood up. Her head spun, flashing lights in front of her eyes. Obviously she was more exhausted than she realised. She grabbed hold of the bedside cabinet. Grissom immediately stood up and moved round the bed to take hold of her arm.

"You're just proving my point now, Cath."

"I don't know how you cope, Gil. These long days with virtually no sleep are nearly killing me."

"Practise, Cath, Practise. Now let me take you down to your car."

"There's no need. And anyway-" She gestured towards Sara's bed.

Grissom evidently had considered this, and the tortured look on his face made Catherine realise this was no easy decision for him. "No, it's fine, really. I'll only be gone a few minutes." As they walked through the door he glanced back at Sara's bed and Catherine felt his step quicken. However, the migraine she could feel coming on allowed her only to take slow steps and despite the guilt she felt for dragging Grissom away, she was glad for his support.

After all, all they had at times like these was each other.

Sara's eyes began to flicker open. Through small slits she allowed some light in and she soon realised she was in a hospital. The whiteness she was letting in through her bruised eyelids told her that. She had little recollection of anything. Bowran. Him beating her. Blackness. And then something else – something that was particularly unclear. Someone speaking to her. Nick had been here. And Catherine. She had had visitors. And Grissom? She was sure he had been here.

She was suddenly aware of a pressure on her hand. Someone was holding her.

"Grissom?"

"It's alright, honey, I'm here."

"Is that you? Oh, Grissom."

His voice was muffled through her blocked, tired ears, but the feelings that she felt as a result of his touch on her hand were all too familiar.

But then, all of a sudden, her nose began to detect something. A smell which had connotations not of Grissom but of someone she was much less keen to have near her.

"GET OFF ME!" she cried, as she pulled her hand away from the strong male grip and forced her eyes open, wincing at the pain. Sure enough, there in front of her was Philip Bowran, tears running down his face.

"Oh, Sara, I knew you were alive."

Her worst fears realised, Sara screwed her eyes shut again, praying that someone would walk through the door of her room any second.

"I'm so sorry. It wasn't meant to happen like this. I don't know what to do! You have to help me, Sara. Everything's such a mess. First Jennifer and now this. Everything was so perfect. Only a few days ago-" And there Bowran broke down, tears cascading down his cheeks; his crying turning in too full blown sobs, each one wracking his body. He wrapped his arms around Sara and sobbed into her chest, his salty tears soaking through the thin hospital robe she was dressed in. She shivered in revulsion, the touch of his body on hers disgusting her as much as it had done the previous day.

But she was no longer afraid. She realised that Bowran no longer posed any danger to her. He was to be pitied not feared. Nothing he could do now could harm her. Not here, not with him in this state. He had attempted to take his own life too, and he was as weak as, if not weaker than, her.

As she felt his tears subside and his body grow still, she slowly opened her eyes, expecting him to sit up. But he did not move. She glanced down at her chest where his head was rested, and suddenly became aware of a pool of deep red. Blood seeping from Bowran's chest onto the side of her bed. He must have pulled his drips out, she thought, suddenly overcome with feelings of compassion for this pathetic figure.

If she did nothing now, she would never be able to live with herself. She was not going to let Bowran leave her with a feeling of guilt for the rest of her life, even after his own death.

She leaned over, the strain of her movement sending ripples of pain throughout her body, pressed the panic button, and waited.

As Grissom approached Sara's door on his return from Catherine's car, the sound of the emergency alarm immediately sending him into a mad sprint, the sight before him could not have been more of a shock. But at the sight of Philip Bowran's body sprawled over Sara's, blood staining the bedsheets, he knew this time he was not going to hesitate.

He rushed over, removing Bowran from the bed and placing him onto the chair, preparing himself to have to enter a fight once more for Sara's life. But instead he realised the blood had not come from her body but from Bowran's. And as the doctors rushed in and began to deal with him, Grissom could not have cared less. He knew Bowran was already gone. And anyway, all he cared about was Sara. He waved the doctors away as they tried to approach Sara, silently confirming that she was unharmed.

He sat on the side of her bed and took her hand. Her eyes were tightly shut, although certainly not because she was sleeping, but at the touch of his hand, they flickered open.

"Grissom."

This time there was no question. This time the touch of his hand was unmistakable.

"Sara." He stroked her cheek gently as he spoke. "You're awake."

"You're here."

"Where else would I be?"

A single tear rolled down her cheek, but at the same time she began to laugh gently. Something inside her changed. Something felt different. After all the months of turmoil inside her body, she suddenly felt calm.

"It's over, Grissom."

"I know. Bowran's never coming back. You're safe."

"I don't just mean that. It's all over. You're here. I'm here. And the earth's stillturning."

Grissom began to laugh at Sara's melodramatic phrasing, and she continued to laugh with him. And as Grissom laid his head on her chest, in the same spot where Bowran had lain only a few moments ago, everything clicked into place. They simply lay there, laughing with each other, ignoring the chaos around them, until they dozed off in each other's arms.

Neither had ever slept so soundly.