Miami
Day 3- 10:30 AM
Jackson Memorial Hospital

The Emergency ward of the Jackson Memorial Hospital buzzed with men and women dressed in hospital scrubs and coats, while patients awaiting treatment lined the walls and plastic chairs and impatiently watched as the others around them were admitted into the next ward. Some had minor injuries—a woman sitting down the hall in one of the blue chairs clutched her son's hand, while he cradled a sprained wrist—while others had more serious ones—a man that was currently being treated by one of the nurses had a blade sticking out of his thigh. The staff on duty had certainly seen their share of strange injuries and ailments of the people of Miami-Dade, that was indisputable, but the team of M.E.s that came flying through the front double doors of the Ward with a gurney speeding next to them was one they would talk about for the months to come.

A woman, painted completely from head to toe as what the staff assumed was a butterfly, lay atop the gurney, flanked by numerous emergency workers, an entire SWAT team, a fleet of MDPD police officers, and five CSIs. They were halted at the doors—only the gurney and workers were allowed to continue. The staring crowd could clearly see the man that had been clutching the woman's hand seconds before was ready to either battle his way in, or collapse from exhaustion. He was sharply reprimanded by one of the doctors and ordered to stay in the waiting room.

Gil was infuriated. He'd been reunited with his partner only to be ripped apart again by a little man in a white lab coat. He was seriously considering hitting the doctor.

"Look, that's my partner in there!" Gil shouted.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to stay here. No one is permitted in the ER but our staff."

Gil's eyes widened with rage.

"I don't care about your damn rules!" He looked ready to kill. "I care about Catherine! I have to be in there!"

Stella approached the pair and gently placed a hand on Gil's tense arm.

"Gil, we want to be in there as much as you do," her voice was soothing to his ears, "but the best thing for Catherine is to let the doctors do their jobs. Okay?"

The doctor in front of them looked gratefully at Stella before slipping away. Stella herself steered Gil forcibly to a room off of the ER where the others had queued, where Horatio took Gil from Stella and sat him down. Gil dipped his head into his hands; his elbows rested on his knees. The world faded away.

It would remain that way for the next six hours.

Miami
Day 3- 4:30 PM
Jackson Memorial Hospital

I. Need. Coffee.

Mac Taylor's mind kept repeating this phrase over and over as he sat in one of the smaller waiting rooms with the others. He hadn't slept in two days. Ever since the teams had arrived that fated morning, in fact. His body felt it would collapse in exhaustion.

As if reading his mind, Stella, having woken from a catnap and wandered down the hospital cafeteria, handed Mac a steaming cup of coffee. He gratefully took it from her and promptly downed half of it. Stella smirked as his eyes went wide as he realized he'd completely burned his throat.

"You never even gave me a chance to warn you," She laughed. Horatio, next to him, wordlessly handed Mac a glass of water. He downed it as fast as the coffee, and sighed in relief. Calleigh chuckled.

"Nice, Mac. Very nice."

The group remained in quiet conversation as the hours drove on. Gil had periodically risen to check in with the occasional doctor—they'd told him the same thing every time.

"She's in surgery. Our doctors are doing all they can. It would be best for you to go home, take a shower, sleep, and come back."

But, of course, Gil ignored these words of advice and forced his body back to the waiting room. The other four had fallen asleep randomly throughout the day, waking to inquire to Gil as to updates on Catherine's condition, then talking with the others who where awake until another fell asleep again. The cycle continued.

At six o' clock, a doctor came in to tell the group that the necessary surgeries had been a success. Catherine was in post and would remain under the hospital's supervision for at least the next twenty-four hours; Gil laughed in relief.

"Can I see her?"

"I'm afraid that would be inadvisable at this time. She's extremely delicate right now—why don't you go home, get some rest—"

Gil stopped listening after that. He turned and sat back down.

Horatio thanked the doctor and sat down next to Gil, fiddling with his sunglasses.

"Grissom, I know this is hard, but perhaps if you left for a little while, got some shut-eye—I have a spare bedroom at my place. It'll do you some good."

"I don't need some shut eye," Gil stared at the red-haired man in front of him. "I need to see Catherine. I need to know she's okay."

Mac felt a great wave of sympathy wash over his body as he watched Gil struggle. He knew what it was like to lose someone, to want to see them so badly it hurt, to want to touch them, if only to understand. He'd never gotten the opportunity to do that four years ago. His wife had died without Mac ever knowing the feel of Claire's hand in his one last time, or to hear her voice filled with laughter bid him farewell as she left their home for the day. That day, he'd never said goodbye. He still hadn't.

"Is there any possible way we could perhaps sneak Dr. Grissom in to see his partner?" Mac addressed the doctor. The man's ears perked up at the title.

"Doctor, you say?" He studied Gil carefully before giving a little nod of his head. "I'll see what I can do."

Gil looked up, astonished, as the doctor left the room to fetch one of the nurses. Mac smiled slightly at the relief that was evident on Gil's face.

"I would have wanted the same thing."

Gil thanked him with his eyes.

Miami
Day 3- 5:00 PM
Jackson Memorial Hospital

A single pane of glass separated New York and Miami from Las Vegas. Four gazed on while two struggled—both emotionally and physically—to continue. And, while the two men and two women observing appeared calm and cool, internally their bodies waged a war between the respective minds and hearts to decide if it was wise to intervene.

Mac didn't want to. Morally, anyway. He recognized an unbreakable bond when he saw one. But ethically…it was a delicate situation, to say the least. He could see how much they cared for each other, protected one another, yet never crossed that precious line that had been toed once or twice. Or so he guessed. Mac would have been lying if he had said that he himself had never felt the emotions the two in front of him did that he tried so hard to repress.

Catherine's hair was brushed back from her face as Gil's hand moved it away. He couldn't believe that she was still a human mural. The supposition was that the doctors obviously hadn't found that as a high priority, their only goal to tend to Catherine as quickly as possible, but still…

She hadn't awoken or moved since he had taken up residence at her side. Gil knew that she could hear the words he whispered into her ear—more to let her know he was there, than anything else. He told her of their friendship, how they met, how beautiful he had thought she'd looked, how much she struck him as more than a woman who wrapped herself around a pole for a living. He spoke to her of Lindsey, of Eddie, of how he regretted never telling her about her husband's infidelities; he even spoke of how sorry he was of his actions when Eddie had died. He hadn't been there when she needed him most. He hadn't taken the time to stop and really ask her if she was okay, even though he knew full well she wouldn't be, but it was the proper thing to do, wasn't it? And when she would say "Fine", he would know that she wasn't, and would likely call her on it. And she would tell him the truth.

But he didn't do that. He didn't support her when she found out she had a murderer for a father, either. He'd covered for her, yes, but it wasn't like he went and purposely sought her out to comfort her. Instead, she'd come to him. Not to tell him, though. She came because he was having his own problems, and she'd put herself last. Always putting herself last. He always let her. He told her that, too, while she lay there.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She could hear him.

She was sleeping.

One last shot.

Inhale.

"Catherine…I never told you. The moment I met you, I knew. My life had been…incomplete before you. I had been missing something. And then you came along. You showed me how life could be—how I could be. You stayed by me through everything. My mother, my hearing, even my whole 'Sara-thing', as you liked to call it. And I never thanked you for that, did I? I never told you how much your support means to me. How much you mean to me."

Exhale.

Inhale.

"I guess I never had the courage to tell you. But it's funny—it's only now that you can't even tell me to stop that I find I have that courage. Cath…you have no idea how much I love you. Not just as a friend, because Lord knows I've done that since I first laid eyes on you. No, I love you the way that both you and I know that I shouldn't. And…I guess I'm sorry for that, Catherine. I'm sorry that I had to tell you this way. It's a cowardly way to do it. But I knew this would be my only chance. And that's…"

Exhale.

Inhale.

"That's all I ever really wanted to tell you, Catherine Willows."

A/N: I know I said that this would only be two more chapters, but it felt completely natural to end this chapter here. So…now there's only two more chapters left. A HUGE thanks to all of my reviewers—twice as many reviews as any other chapter! Cookies to soliz, Katrina, CSIJessica (I totally agree with you—GSR is just overkill), alora a calim, DrusillaBraun (I can't kill Cath…shifty look)? (Thanks for the review!), gloomy forensic scientist, Shy9 (Oh, yay! I love fans!), csifan (The edge of your seat? Mission accomplished!), CSIfreak, slizc, and kiara malfoy. Whew! Many, many, thanks to all—lurkers, I heart reviews. I really do. They are pretty much chocolate. Proverbially, of course, 'cause I love the real thing way too much.

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