The waiting room was cold and silent. In an uncomfortable chair in the farthest corner, Grissom sat, with his hands clasped together, his head bowed and his stomach in a thousand knots. It had been a half an hour since he had arrived at Northwestern hospital and in that short period of time, a million things had happened. At least, it seemed that way. Catching up to the world was more chaotic than Grissom could have ever imagined and he felt as if he'd been lost for a month rather than a night. There were so many questions he needed to ask and so many he needed to answer. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything until he was by Sara's side again, holding her hand tightly in his own. So for now, the only thing he could do was wait.

And pray.

Catherine yawned beside him. "You doing okay, Gil?" she asked softly, bringing one hand up to squeeze his shoulder. Her touch was comforting, and so was her voice. But she wasn't Sara. So no matter how hard she tried, there was no way she could ever understand.

She just couldn't.

Grissom nodded to Catherine gratefully, knowing that it wasn't her fault and that she was doing her very best to ease his pain–a pain that could never be described in words. It was a silent pain, a dark, unspoken anguish that filled him completely and removed him from the world in an entirely different, spiritual way. Physically, he had returned. But in his heart and soul, he was still lost. And there was only one way he would truly be found again.

Don't leave me, Sara, Grissom begged, his mind spinning with silent prayers. I need you here. I can't do this without you. We're lost without each other. We always have been. He knew it was true and he knew that if he was given one more chance–a chance he knew he didn't deserve–then he would never let Sara out of his sight again. He would never let her go. He would never let another chance go by and he would tell her how much he loved her and that he would be there for her, all day and all night. Anytime she could possibly need him–he would be there. He would be there forever. He just needed one more chance to prove it.

And he needed Sara to give him that chance.

Sara had been in surgery for almost an hour and only the trauma room nurses, who had worked on her when she first arrived, had any sort of news for Grissom. One nurse–who informed Grissom that Sara had him down as her next of kin and subsequently had him sign some forms–had even taken a few minutes to sit down next to him and tell him everything that she remembered about Sara's condition. It wasn't good news but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. According to the nurse, Sara was still putting up a strong fight when they took her into surgery. The trauma team had managed to get her stabilized quickly and, even though she hadn't completely regained consciousness, she was breathing–shallowly–on her own and she had squeezed one of the nurses hands lightly in response to her name. But the internal bleeding was extensive and so was the damage to her lung.

And it would be hours before they knew anything more.

Grissom had been processing the nurse's words ever since they left her mouth. He desperately wanted reassurance, a guarantee, a promise–anything to calm his nerves, to help him believe that Sara would come through it all with flying colours. He tried to remember the nurse's tone, wondering wildly if her voice held some sort of a secret, something vital that she hadn't shared with him. He didn't doubt that her intentions were good, or that her attempt to comfort him had been genuine and true, but he couldn't help feeling as if he wasn't getting the whole story–even though he knew that he couldn't have the whole story. He couldn't–because nobody had it.

They were still in the middle of it.

Grissom sighed. If only he could write the ending. Or re-write the beginning. And the middle. He would go to any lengths, he would do absolutely anything to erase the whole night, to take away Sara's pain and suffering, to let it all be just a nightmare of epic proportions. If only he had that power. If only he could turn back time. If only he could see into the future–or at least into tomorrow. Then he would know something. And he wouldn't feel so misguided, so defeated.

I don't know what's happening, Grissom thought to himself. I'm powerless. I'm not in control. Of anything. And I want to be. God, I want to be. I want to write the happy ending. I have to. Clenching his fists in fear and frustration, Grissom looked over at Catherine, who was still there, staring at him with the deep concern of a good friend. After a moment, her fingers found his and she pulled his cold hand open, taking it into her warm one.

"You look like hell," Catherine whispered, in a soothing yet stern voice. She gave his hand a squeeze, rubbing her thumb along the top of his fingers. "You need to be looked at."

"When Sara's out of surgery," Grissom quietly replied.

"No," Catherine said, as firmly as she could. "You need to do this now."

Grissom closed his eyes. "I know, Cath. But I just can't–"

"Sara's being taken care of," Catherine assured him. "And now you need to be taken care of too. I sent Greg to see if he can get some sort of an update. Anything." She paused. "But it could be awhile, and your injuries really can't wait. I'm going to go get a nurse and we'll get you a bed so you can be checked out–"

"I'm fine."

Catherine pursed her lips and she shook her head, her eyes scanning his injured body."You're not fine," she said softly. And with a reassuring smile, she began checking him over herself, examining his swollen wrist and the cuts on his face and hands.Grissom let her do it, feeling too tired to argue and too weak to push her hands away. He sat there, in silence, as Catherine poked and prodded him and he watched her face, noting the confusion in her expression. She looked at everything very carefully and Grissom wondered if she was trying to piece together the entire night by studying his cuts and bruises. Just when he decided that Catherine was, indeed, reconstructing the accident in her head, he felt a stab of pain in his neck and he jumped. Catherine withdrew her fingers quickly.

"Sorry," she said, with a loud gasp. She leaned closer to take a better look as she ran her fingertips across the back of Grissom's neck again, being very gentle this time. She let out a sympathetic hiss as she traced around a large, bloody gash. "You're going to need stitches for this one," she sighed. "It's deep."

Grissom looked at her in surprise. "I–I didn't even notice it."

"Of course not," Catherine whispered, as she touched his arm lightly. Her comforting smile weakened and she winced. "Gil–you have a lot of bruises, you need stitches, and I think your wrist might be fractured. You need to see a doctor."

Grissom looked down at his purple, swollen wrist. "It doesn't hurt," he said slowly, distantly.

Catherine bit her lip. "You're numb. I know."

"Do you?"

"Do I?"

Grissom hesitated for a moment, clearing his throat. "Do you–do you know?" He was almost positive that she had a pretty good idea of what happened between him and Sara but he had to find out for sure.

Catherine stared hard into his eyes and she nodded. "I know," she breathed. "I could see it in your eyes the minute we found you." She smiled again–softly. "And I see it now."

Sighing, Grissom buried his face in his hands, tyring once again to hide his emotions. "I failed her, Catherine," he mumbled. "I let her down."

"If you're talking about the last couple of years then I might have to agree with you," replied Catherine. "But if you're talking about last night then I'm going to have to disagree. Strongly."

"I'm talking about both."

Catherine moved closer, placing her hand on his back. "First of all," she began, in a strong, steady voice. "Never look back. I told you that once before." She started rubbing slow circles on his back. "You may have been an insensitive ass in the past but I have a pretty good feeling that Sara saw through it. Otherwise, she would have left years ago." Catherine took a breath. "Second, and more importantly, Sara wouldn't have even made it here if it wasn't for you. You did everything but fail her last night. She's a strong girl but with injuries that severe–" She licked her lips. "Well, lets just say, she was lucky that it was you with her–for many reasons."

Grissom lifted his head, shaking it. "I made a lot of mistakes," he said hoarsely. "I should have–"

"Don't look back, Gil," Catherine said again, quickly. "It doesn't matter now. You got her here alive. You were with her when she needed you the most."

But Sara needed me a long time ago too, Grissom thought to himself, although he knew Catherine was right–it didn't make any sense to keep thinking about the past. He didn't have the power to change it, after all. He could only learn from his mistakes and vow never to make them again. He was good at making silent vows. He'd already made a lot of them that night. And he was making yet another one when Greg arrived in the waiting room, wearing an empty look on his face.

"Hey," Greg said tiredly, as he slumped down in the chair across from his supervisor. The young CSI took a moment to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand and clear his throat before turning to Grissom and Catherine. "No one would tell me anything," he said, in a strained voice. He bowed his head. "I, uh, I called Nick and Warrick to fill them in," he told them. "They're on their way to the accident site with Brass. They've been in contact with the county sheriff and they're going to help figure everything out. They said they'd be here to check up on Sara as soon as they could." Greg looked up, making eye contact with Grissom. "They're, uh, they're praying for her, Griss. We all are."

"Thanks, Greg," whispered Grissom. "Nicky and Warrick are okay?"

"Yeah. They're upset, understandably, but they're holding it together."

Grissom nodded slowly, looking from Greg to Catherine. "When did you figure out we were missing?" he asked, almost timidly.

"When the sheriff called, looking for you," Greg replied. "I was trying to call your cell with results from the evidence you had me process but I couldn't get through. I figured you couldn't get a signal so I waited. But then the sheriff called and said you were late. He couldn't get through to you either." Greg paused for a second and he gave Grissom a weak smile. "So then we started to worry because you and Sara would be the last people on earth to ditch a crime scene. We, uh, we thought–"

"We all figured you were lost," Catherine said, jumping in. "Greg told us that you said you'd be in touch and when you didn't call, we decided to send out a search party. Well, a few search parties. I was on my way home when Greg told me what was going on, so he and I were able to come right out here. We met up with the sheriff and he sent out a few cars to look for you as well. But we chose the right road to search."

"Apparently, it's very easy to get lost on those back roads," Greg added quietly.

"Apparently," Grissom muttered. He took a deep, calming breath. "What about the case?"

Catherine shook her head, her eyes showing her disbelief. "Only you," she sighed, still rubbing his back softly. "Don't worry about the case. The sheriff ended up calling in someone else. He's probably not going to be as good as you, of course, or me for that matter, but he'll have to do." She winked at Grissom. "It's your case we should be worried about."

"It's not a case," Grissom said, with a sad shrug. "That truck could be anywhere by now. And the person driving it probably doesn't even realize that they ran us off the road. There's not a lot of evidence to work with." He dropped his head into his hands again. "And I, uh, I really can't think about that right now."I can't think about anything or anyone but Sara, he added to himself. Nothing else matters right now. Nothing. I should have never even asked about the case because it doesn't matter at all. Nothing does. Nothing. Only Sara. So why can't I stop thinking about the accident? Why? Why did any of this happen at all?

"That's alright," Catherine told him. "You don't have to talk about it until you're ready."

"I–" Grissom inhaled sharply, his hands muffling the sound. "I couldn't do anything, Cath."

"What do you mean?"

"The accident–" Grissom whispered, as a lump formed in his throat. "There was nothing I could do. I felt so powerless. I couldn't stop it from happening. And then when it did happen, I couldn't help her."

Catherine looked confused. "Are you ready to talk about this?"

Grissom sat up, meeting her gaze. His eyes were full of tears–tears that would never, ever spill over. Not if he could help it. As he fought back those tears, he opened his mouth, willing some sort of sound to come out. He hoped for distinct words, for sentences, for clearly expressed thoughts but he knew better than to expect that. And he would never know really, if what he was saying made any sense at all. He knew that he was saying something, something about the accident, but his mind wasn't there. His mind and his heart were preoccupied with thoughts of Sara, with prayers for her, with love.

I'm waiting for you, Sara. Just like you waited for me. And I won't leave. I'll never leave you. Just give me the chance to prove it to you. As he tried to silently communicate with Sara, Grissom was completely unaware as the time went by, as another few hours of waiting faded away. Catherine and Greg came and went, one at a time, and they brought him food and coffee that he never touched. They talked to him, they reassured him, they sat with him while a doctor tended to his injuries, they made phone calls, they worried, and Grissom was never really there for any of it. But he came back–completely–the moment he saw a doctor, in tired-looking blue scrubs, enter the waiting room.

"Dr. Grissom?"

Grissom stood up, moving faster than he had in his whole life. Catherine and Greg were right behind him. "Yes?" he said, his voice nearly breaking.

The doctor approached, extending his hand. "Hi, I'm Dr. Bennett. I'm assisting in the OR."

Barely breathing, Grissom shook the doctor's hand with his good one. "How's Sara?" he asked, forcing the words out. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his whole body felt heavy as he searched the doctor's eyes.

"Miss Sidle is still in surgery," the doctor said slowly, just before his lips curved into a small smile. "But we wanted to let you know that she's doing very well and as of right now, we expect to have her out of there within the next hour or two."

And suddenly, Grissom felt as if he weighed nothing at all.

TBC

Author's Note: Okay, so I didn't want to leave this one as a cliffhanger because I think I've made you all worry enough already ;) I also wanted to put a little happiness into this chapter because everything was so sad! And for anyone who is still worried about Sara–the next chapter is going to be her POV! (Hint). Thanks to everyone who is reading this and thanks for all the reviews!

Special thanks to Wanda57, ToMyGrave, svcmc, Chicklit, jtbwriter, Denese25, Dizzy-Dreamer, vsky, GracefulBee, Miss Adelon, jbr12476, Sidle Chick, cjtylr74, barenakedrachel, leddy, DaVinci13, susanmary, lalaforte, Aidrianna, csiobsessed, GSBS4L, LSI, gabesaunt, Caro, DolphinAnimagus, Lanta, Aimee5, CookieK2, Lily of the Shadow, CarbyluvYTDAW, tvspaz626, silence89, Veronica, brainfear, Katia, sara kicks ass, angstyotaku, SaraSidle78 and anyone I missed!

Thanks,

Jazz