Okay I still think this is a little bit sappy, but I tried to make the dialouge (to the extent that there is any in this chapter) more interesting. I'm sorry for those of you who thought I was actually updating new material...as soon as I get through editing this (which should be soon; finals are done next week) I will break out the old notebook where all of this is written long-hand and write more.

I wish I had friends as good as these guys, but I guess Grissom probably doesn't realize how much they love him until he gets into trouble huh? Too bad that's the way life has to be isn't it?

Enough of my depressing rambling...ONWARD!

Chapter 3

Sara Sidle sat in the ER waiting room, her new jeans and blue baby t-shirt covered in blood. People stared as they passed by, nurses mostly, trying to ascertain if she was injured, but just to stupid to notice. A small man of about forty sat on one of the couches, too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice her.

The room was comfortable, the carpet and furniture red, of all colors; the influence of the flashy Vegas Strip she guessed. The big screen TV against one wall blared 'Who's Line is it Anyway?' the laughter echoing and dying down the sterile white hallways. She took in none of this; all she could see was Grissom's face, pale even in the red of the desert sun. Blood . . . pain in his intelligent, expressive blue eyes . . . his weight in her arms. She…they… could loose him. The thought was a terrible one.

"Sara?"

The young CSI jumped and looked up at the worry-lined face of Catherine Willows.

"Sorry. How is he?"

All Sara's anguish came out in a rush, "I don't know, they won't tell me." Her voice cracked in her rage, her voice etched with despair, "They say," a tear of frustration slipped from a liquid brown eye, she cleared her throat, "They say I'm 'not family', well if we're not family then who the hell is?"

"I don't know." They were Gil's family, but how to make them see that, was something else again. All she could do was offer comfort, or what little she could give. She sat down next to her younger associate and touched her arm gently, "Come on sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up."

"No," said Sara stubbornly, "I'm waiting right here. When they feel ready to talk, I wanna be here."

Just then Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown came tearing down the hospital corridor. Catherine had never seen either man so worried. "What the hell is going on?" were the first words out of Nick's mouth.

"Well we don't really know, the hospital staff isn't helping and I wasn't there." All three looked at Sara, who looked, to Nick, like she had just been through a bloody war.

"Sara, can you tell us what happened?" Warrick asked in his gentle bass voice, his brown forehead crinkled and his greenish-blue eyes melancholy.

Sara swallowed hard and began to tell her story, reliving it in her mind.