A/N: Hi! Hope this works for you. I really struggled with it despite knowing the direction it would take. Thanks for everything. You guys rock. I love your reviews.

Sheila

Props to my friend, Marlou, who always finds time to make it better.

A special thanks to Maggs who walked me through some of the pre labor stuff. I hope I did it right.

Hope Springs

Chapter 13

Grissom sat in the molded plastic chair of an airport lounge. They had promised him stand-by on a flight scheduled to leave in four hours which had a stop in Chicago. He couldn't realistically expect to be in Sioux Falls until 10 a.m. tomorrow morning. He clasped and unclasped his hands repeatedly, doing his best to stay rooted in the chair. He twisted his wrist and found it to be only two minutes later than the last time he checked.

Three calls to McKinnon hospital had been fruitless. He alternately heard that she wasn't there, that she was in surgery, that they weren't allowed to speak to him because he wasn't family, and that she was being examined. He had to resist the urge to yell his displeasure across four states. After much urging, he convinced a nurse to have her supervisor call him. He was still waiting for her call.

"I found you!" The heaving body of Nick Stokes was standing in front of him, hunched over, trying to catch his breath.

"What are you doing here?" Grissom frowned at him.

"I'm here to help." Nicky peered at him out of the corner of his eye while he panted.

"Well, unless you chartered a private jet for me, I don't know what you could possibly do." Grissom voice was thick with frustration.

Nicky stood up and snorted. "Well, you're sitting here waiting for a flight that isn't going to get you to Sioux Falls for another 11 hours, so I figure you could use a little help."

"The ticket agent assures me that this is my best option. Not a lot of nonstop traffic running through Sioux Falls as you can imagine." Grissom winced at the sarcastic tone of his voice. As usual, at times of emotional difficulty, his defenses were working overtime."

Nick sighed and sat down next to him. "All right, Grissom, we'll deal with that in a moment. First things first; how's Sara? Do you have any idea as to the extent of her injuries?"

"No. They won't give me any information."

"Tell me the hospital she's at." Nick pulled out his phone.

Anger swelled up in Grissom. "What makes you think they're going to talk to you."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, okay? You're beside yourself here and you could use a little help."

"McKinnon hospital." He growled reluctantly.

Nicky got up and started dialing numbers, glancing at his watch as he did so. He groaned. "Grab your things. I'll have you on a flight in 30 minutes. We have to hurry. It's on the other side of the terminal."

"What!" Grissom slung his bag over his shoulder.

"No time to explain. If you want to shave four hours off your trip, then follow me." Nicky trotted off toward the far end of the terminal. Grissom jogged after him reluctantly. Eventually they slowed at a gate filled with grey haired couples. "Okay, let me take care of this." Nicky warned.

"Why?"

"Because the flight is full."

Hearing this last impossible bit of news, Grissom groaned.

Nicky stood up on a plastic chair and looked around the room, then he raised a hand. "Folks, may I have your attention please?"

Grey heads turned his direction.

"Folks, we have a situation. My friend here, Gil, is in a tough spot. His wife, Sara, has been in an accident and she's in a hospital in Sioux Falls. He's having a hard time getting there. She's pregnant and he needs to get there as soon as possible." Grissom's eyes grew large as Nick spun this tale out of facts and wishful thinking.

Murmurs rose up from the crowd as people shook their heads and looked at him in sympathy.

"Now, your flight is full, and I am sure that you all have busy lives to return to, but if there is anybody that can help him, we'd be real appreciative. In fact, if there is anyone here who can give up their ticket, Gil here will pay for it plus put you up in The Palms for two more nights, and $300 in spending money." Nick leaned over and reported to Grissom in sotto voice. "Warrick's got your back. He got you two night's comp there. The $300 you're going to have to swallow."

Grissom waved it away. "Anything, Nicky. Just get me on this plane."

A man stood up. "Is this for real, 'cause my wife here never had a chance to see Wayne Newton, and she's been real worked up about that?"

Nicky jumped down off the chair. "Absolutely sir. In fact, I believe I can get you some nice front row tickets to that show."

"Nick! I don't know anything about getting tickets." Grissom hissed at him. Nicky smiled and whispered back. "Her name is Charisma, she's the concierge at the Sands, and she owes me. I got it all taken care of."

Within minutes, tickets were exchanged and people began boarding the plane. Grissom turned to Nick. "I just realized that the airline isn't going to let me use someone else's ticket."

Nicky snorted. "Small charter company flying Vegas to Midwest destinations? I think this is not high on the list of Homeland Security concerns. You'll be okay."

"How do you know all this?"

"Well, Griss, if you paid attention to what was happening around you, you would know that my sister was a travel agent. I called her and woke her out of a dead sleep when Catherine told me you were stuck at the airport. She got on the computer and walked me through this. You are going to Omaha with these people, and then you will rent a car and head north to Sioux Falls. Barring any unforeseen events, you will be at the hospital by 6 a.m."

"Nick, I owe you an apology and my gratitude. I'm no good at accepting help."

He nodded. "You're having a hard day."

"I'm like this almost all the time." Grissom sighed.

"Good point, Grissom, but you'll have enough time to think about that later."

"I am grateful."

"Hey, my sister is the hero here. Woman's got three little kids. An hour of sleep is worth an ounce of gold to her."

Grissom considered reaching over and giving Nick's shoulder a squeeze, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "Please pass on my heartfelt appreciation for her help."

Nick's phone rang. He pulled it to his ear and listened. "Yes, ma'am, I am her brother. My name is Nick. I am looking for an update…Yes, yes, yes, I know all that, but you must know how crazy we're feeling, halfway across the country, no way to get there quickly, transportation to your part of the world being what it is. I realize that nothing is definitive, but we're on pins and needles down here, and time has stood still…Yes, ma'am, just a few. Is she in critical condition? Where was she shot? Can we speak to her?…Yes…Uh-huh…You're sure. Our information was quite different…Excellent. The prognosis?...Yes, ma'am…Thank you for your time…Yes, the baby's father will be there as soon as he can. We are at the airport right now…Thanks again, ma'am."

Grissom looked on with some fascination as Nicky's accent thickened a bit more with every sentence, and he recognized how this sincere sounding country plain speak was opening doors for Nick that his own city breeding wasn't touching. Nicky got off the phone and Grissom tensed. Nick took a deep breath. "Okay. Good news and bad news. First off, she wasn't shot."

"The sergeant at the sheriff's office said that she was." Grissom narrowed his eyes.

Nick shrugged. "Well, you know how that goes. People get stressed and they hear all sorts of things. The detective with her was shot though. Sara suffered a fall."

"She's going to be okay?" The tension in his body began to ease.

"Well Griss, that's not all. She definitely is in pre-term labor, and at 27 weeks that's generally not a good thing. They are doing what they can to stop the labor."

"Can I talk to her?"

"Ah…they're trying to x-ray her hip right now. She fell from a porch and they need to know if her hip is fractured in case she has to deliver."

"I need to talk to her." Grissom stood his ground rather hopelessly.

Nick placed an arm across his shoulder and gently steered him toward the door. "Right now, you need to get on this plane before they close the door. Then you get there as soon as you can. We'll try and reach her and tell her that you're coming. We'll tell her you're coming."

Grissom closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he nodded at Nicky and headed for the plane. The Texan waited until the plane taxied down the runway, and then he went looking for the couple who were going to celebrate another couple of days in Sin City on Gil Grissom.

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Sara lay as quietly as possible. Her right arm was sore and throbbing from her fall, but she didn't dare move it. She didn't want to move anything. An IV dripped slowly into her arm and she didn't want anything to impede the medicine getting to her body. The clock on the far wall ticked the seconds away, and she knew she had only five more hours to get this under control.

Another contraction hit and she gritted her teeth, grabbing the sheets with her fingers. She tried to breathe as she was taught but she found herself powerlessness to do much except get through the enormous discomfort.

A short red haired nurse peeked in the door. She saw Sara straining and slipped in. "How are you doing, Sara?"

Sara could do nothing but grimace at her. The woman checked her IV and her pulse, and then sat down next to her, still holding her wrist. "Good job, Sara. Just ride it through."

Sara puffed her way through and began to relax again. The nurse smiled at her. "You're doing really well, Sara."

"I can't have this baby yet." Sara whispered.

The nurse took a washcloth and gently patted the cool fabric onto Sara's sweat soaked face. "I know, honey. You're doing the best you can."

Sara shook her head in frustration. "He's too small."

The nurse had a profusion of freckles on her short, wide nose. "Sara, we're not a big hospital, but we're the best place you can be right now. We've seen our share of little babies, and we have very good facilities."

"Isn't there anything we can do? Please. I'll do anything."

"Sorry, honey, nothing to do but wait."

Sara set her mouth in a grim line and tried to hold back the tears.

"Hey, we're slow tonight so I think I get to just stay here with you right now. We can talk or not talk. Whatever you need. My name is June."

Sara nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "How is Detective Bellecourt?"

June bit her lower lip. "He's still in surgery, but he's a strong man."

"He saved my life."

June smiled. "Yeah, and I hear you returned the favor."

Sara turned away. She didn't see it that way. She remembered being curled in the grass, waiting to taste her last breath when another shot rang out. She ached everywhere but didn't feel any blood. A tremendous thud sounded and she opened her eyes to find Jesse lying on the ground beside her with blood seeping from his neck. He was making choking sounds, but when she looked at his eyes she could tell he wasn't seeing anything. She propped herself up on one elbow and saw Mo Bellecourt holding tightly onto the railing. She could see the blood soaking the front of his shirt, his pistol hung limply in his hand. He was swaying back and forth, and then he collapsed on the porch.

More screaming erupted and Sara looked over to see April kneeling beside her struggling son. She aimed her small blue eyes at Sara and screamed, "Do something!"

Sara pulled herself onto her knees and began crawling. Her limbs and back groaned through every exertion. She crawled past April and her fallen son despite the woman's demanding shrieks, and dragged herself up the porch steps. With every ounce of strength she had left in her upper body, she pushed Bellecourt onto his back. There was a dark, wet hole in the upper right quadrant of his chest. She laid her cheek on his mouth, and could feel faint, shallow breaths on her skin. Fumbling with the buttons, she pulled his shirt off his chest. The wound was oozing more blood. She looked around her and then remembered the towels on the kitchen table. "April!" she yelled. "Go inside and grab the towels off the table."

April looked up. "What about my son?"

Sara closed her eyes. "Get me the towels and I will help your son. Please!"

The middle aged woman scrambled to her feet and ran past her into the house. She returned seconds later with an armload of kitchen towels in an array of different designs. Sara reached up and grabbed several. She folded them and then placed them on his wound, one after another. Then she placed her hands on top and pressed down hard.

"What about Jesse?" April wailed.

Sara swung her head sharply in the hysterical woman's direction. "Take those towels and do exactly what I am doing on Jesse's wound."

"You promised—"

"Just do it!" Sara screamed at her. The woman's wet eyes focused and she scrambled off the porch. From where Sara sat, she could see that Jesse had ceased struggling. She suspected he was dead, but was not about to mention any of this to his overwhelmed mother.

Sara felt the first contraction as a cramp that knifed through her lower abdomen. She groaned audibly, bending over the detective's chest. A second one hit her a few minutes later, and the only relief she found was the sound of emergency sirens wailing in the distance.

"Hey, what are you thinking about?" The nurse's soft voice broke her reverie.

"Is his family with him? Maurice? He told me he had a wife and kids."

June nodded. "Yes, Sara, they're here, just waiting to hear some good news."

Sara struggled to put her thoughts together. "June…could you tell them that I wouldn't be here right now if not for him. Tell them…I owe him everything and…that my thoughts are with them now."

June patted her face again with the cloth. "I will, Sara. They'll be happy you're okay."

Another contraction seized Sara and she grimaced tightly against the pain. June leaned over and scooped one arm under her neck and the other resting on her arm. Gently, she talked her through the pain. Even as the physical pain subsided, the emotional pain grew.

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Grissom jogged through the halls of the hospital. He had no idea what he had imagined, but was feeling very relieved to find that, despite its size, it looked every bit as professional as Desert Palms. A nurse told him she was in room 313, and he took off without even waiting for directions. It was 6:15 a.m. and he had driven four hours from Omaha. His phone didn't roam in the wide open spaces of the Nebraska heartland, and he was unable to complete any calls to Sioux Falls or anywhere. It was all he could do to not slam the phone through the dashboard. He pushed through a door and found a stairwell and ran the stairs two at a time until he found the third floor. He burst through and nearly plowed over a nurse. He stopped to steady the startled woman and then asked for Sara. The woman pointed at a room down the hall.

He pushed through the door and found her lying in bed, sweat soaked, her hair spread across the pillow in wet, wild tendrils. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping. He approached with care, noting the IV in her arm and the fetal monitor attached to her abdomen. He sat down in the chair beside her bed. At first, he sat like a statue, afraid of the noise of his breathing. She looked so exhausted, he was loathe to stir her. Finally his own need took over, and he reached over to cover her hand.

Eyes still closed, her voice murmured. "Please God, tell me that touch is what I think it is."

He reached over and gently kissed her cheek. Her mouth bent into a frown as she choked back sobs. Grissom laid his cheek against hers and wrapped his arms around her. Her whole body seemed to sob, and he let her bury her wet face in his neck. "Shhhhhh. Sara, it's going to be alright. We'll get through this, I promise."

Her cries went on for quite some time, and Grissom couldn't have been happier to be there for every last tear. He actually felt like he was being useful to her. He wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. He wanted to ask her questions about the baby, but he didn't dare. Right now, he would have to content himself with the fact that she was strong enough to hug him back.

Suddenly Sara breathed in sharply and leaned forward. Grissom changed his grip around her shoulders and worked to support her as she struggled through a contraction.

"What's going on, Sara?" He couldn't help but betray a hint of panic in his voice.

Her face was red and etched in pain, and she held her abdomen tightly. The door behind him opened and a short, chubby nurse with red curls rushed in. She regarded him for a moment, and then moved to the other side of the bed and took Sara's hand. "Breathe through it, Sara. You're almost there."

Sara finally collapsed back into Grissom's arms and he lowered her back onto the pillow.

The nurse looked at her watch. "Still the same interval, Sara. If these contradictions don't stop in the next hour, we're going to have to deliver."

"No." Sara groaned. "He isn't old enough. Give me more medication. Anything, June, please."

"Honey, we talked about this. Your womb is making a decision, and we're only along for the ride." The nurse looked at Grissom and extended her arm across the bed. "I'm June. And I am assuming that you are the infamous Grissom."

Grissom numbly took her hand and shook it. "What's happening here?"

June looked down at Sara who was trying to blink back tears. "Sara has gone into premature labor. We've been trying to stop the labor. If she advances any further, we're going to have to deliver this baby."

"The fetus is viable now?" He wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

June nodded. "Yes, probably. We may not have any choice."

"We have another hour?"

"The doc said Sara can struggle with this for another hour, but after that, if she is still in labor, we're going to have to deliver."

"You have a neo-natal unit?"

She smiled. "Of course we do."

He found that he couldn't handle much more information so he merely nodded. June reached behind her and handed Sara a cup. "Ice chips, honey. It'll help you hydrate a little."

Sara took the cup and rested it on her chest. He could see the exhaustion deep in her eyes as she stared past him at the ceiling. He gently took the ice chips from her. "What can I do to help her?"

"Well, you're off to a good start. Make sure she gets hydrated a little with the ice. You might want to massage her back or her belly. She's had quite a bit of bruising from her fall so be careful to avoid her right hip. The more relaxed Sara becomes, the better chance she has at stopping this labor. I'm going to let you keep her company now. I'll be down the hall at the nurse's station. Just press the button on the side of her bed if you need anything. Okay?"

Grissom mumbled this thanks as June slipped out the door. Sara shifted her eyes to his. "I'm sorry, Gris. I was careful. I promise I was. It was a routine interview. We didn't suspect—"

"Shhhh!" He stroked her hair. "It's okay. Don't say another thing. June gave us some pretty specific instructions and I suggest we follow them to the letter.

"But-"

"No." He put a finger to her mouth. "I'm serious. We're not going to talk about anything stressful. Understood?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"Good girl. I'm going to give you an ice chip now and you take your time with it. I'll do all the entertaining."

Her eyes never left his face.

"So my mother wants to meet you. Is absolutely insistent about it. She is convinced that she will charm you so much that you will forget about my numerous shortcomings. What do you think? Has she got a chance?"

Sara started to mumble through the ice, but Grissom just chuckled and put his hand gently over her mouth. "I think, Miss Sidle, that I have you at my mercy right now. No responses. In fact, feel free to nod in agreement with everything I say."

Sara wrinkled her lovely nose at him. He reached over and began to stroke the side of her face. "There is nothing that will ever compare to these moments when we truly see each other. No worries or defenses or insecurities. You open up worlds to me that I never thought possible." He smiled. "With you I have to climb mountains and swim oceans, and I love every moment of it. I can feel joy, Sara, intoxicating, exhilarating joy. You have no idea how foreign that emotion was to me."

He pushed another chip between her lips. "Every minute with you, I am scared and exhausted and confused, but none of it matters because you touch my soul. You make me want to be a better man, someone deserving of your love."

Her eyes were wide and dark and intent on his words.

"I can't seem to get through my day without you. It hurts when I wake up and remember that you are not with me. God knows I don't deserve you. I have been difficult, aloof, and self-involved, but don't ever question my love. It lives in me as if a part of my flesh and blood and bones."

He gave her the last ice chip. "Where are you feeling sore, honey?"

"My back," she murmured softly.

He stood and put a hand under her neck and under the small of her back. Slowly he turned her, careful with her hip, until she was lying on her side. He untied her gown and opened her back to him. Then he slid onto the bed beside her. Draping one arm over her belly, he used the other to knead gently for tight spots. She groaned, and he wondered if she was having another contraction, but she stayed relaxed, urging him to move lower.

Taking his time, he massaged between her shoulder blades and down her spine. She relaxed more when he found a knot in her lower back. While he massaged her, he whispered possible names for the baby. She laughed because he refused to pick anything but girl names: Desdemona, Juliet, Ophelia. She made it clear that he wasn't going to be naming the child after some Shakespeare character. He tried common names like Anne, Heather, Ashley, and she brushed those off too. He began with Latin names related to insect groups, and she erupted in a shout. "Gilbert Grissom, you are not going to name this child. You have no idea what you are doing."

"Only my mom calls me Gilbert." He whispered into her neck.

And...?" She warned.

"Nothing. Just saying you're in good company."

"I already have a name for this baby."

"Tell me." He leaned over and began to massage her belly. She closed her eyes, hypnotized by his rhythmic movements.

"Nope. I want to wait until he is born. I want to see if the name fits him."

"No previews?"

"I am not ready and he is not ready." She said firmly. Grissom let silence take both of them for a few minutes. He rested his chest against her back as he massaged her, trying to support her as best he could.

"His name is going to be Oliver James Grissom. We can honor your mom's name. And the James is for Brass. He's always been there for both of us. Hell, they have all been there for us, but James is the name I like for our baby."

He smiled into her shoulder and sighed deeply. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the clock, aware of every minute that ticked by without a contraction.

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TBC