A/N- Wow, thanks for the reviews! I'm aiming to update at least once a week, more if the muse allows. This is my first story, so I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Brass ignored the sheriff's order, taking only enough time to change into a clean t-shirt from his trunk so that he arrived at the hospital before the others. He rushed into the emergency room and flashed his badge at the counter. "Captain Brass, LVPD. What can you tell me about Gil Grissom? He was brought in with a gun shot wound."

The woman stared at his badge for a second before turning to the computer. "Sure, uhm, here he is. He's in trauma room three, they're prepping him for surgery now."

"Thanks," he threw out and pushed away from the counter. He was all too familiar with the emergency room layout and stalked past the curtained areas before stopping at the trauma room window. With one hand raised he leaned against the glass, watching as doctors and nurses moved around his friend. Jim could hear the beeps of various monitors and the orders called out by the doctors, and though the glass muted the volume their urgency still carried through. He was grateful for the staff's professionalism, he didn't think he could handle it if their urgency turned into panic.

"Hey Jim," Catherine said quietly as she walked up next to him. "Any news?"

"Not yet. Figured I'd ambush the ER doc when they take him upstairs."

"Good plan," she nodded faintly. The sigh that escaped her lips blew her hair away from her face. "Damnit Jim, how the hell did this happen!" Her voice started to break and she hit the wall with her fist. "I mean…" Tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he spoke when she didn't continue. "You'd think with all the stupid stuff he's pulled it would have happened a lot sooner, but to happen now, at a cleared scene, with the suspect in custody…" He shook his head faintly. "I guess his luck finally ran out."

"Don't say that Jim, not now," Catherine bit out.

Brass's mouth twisted with regret. "Yeah, sorry," he apologized quietly.

The activity in the trauma room changed as the team prepared to move Grissom's gurney. Catherine and Jim moved closer to the door, careful to stay out of the way, so that when the gurney was pushed through they had their first good look at their friend. "Oh my god," Catherine gasped. Brass was more stoic, but even he winced at the sight. Grissom's skin was ashen, his face lifeless, and a tube stuck out of his mouth grotesquely while a nurse worked the bag attached at the end. He tore his gaze away from the bag and tube and their implications and focused on the staff instead, studying faces and ids until he found the person he was looking for, the doctor who hung back after the gurney was removed.

"Excuse me, doctor?" He held out his badge. "What can you tell me about that man's condition."

The doctor stripped off her gloves and ran a hand through her sweaty scalp for a moment before answering. "It's touchy right now. He lost a lot of blood and his pressure is dangerously low. They're taking him to the OR to repair the vascular damage and stop the bleeding." She gave them a look of sympathy. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait for the surgeon to find out more."

A nurse further down the hall called out, and the doctor mumbled her excuses as she hurried towards the next emergency.

Catherine searched the halls for a moment before turning back to Brass. "I need visit the little girls room. Wait here until I get back?" Without waiting for an answer she walked strode down the corridor.

Jim leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh and ran his hand over his face. He tried to focus on the case, on the witness statements that would need to be taken, the evidence the CSIs should collect, but the images of Gil fading away while Brass held him kept taking their place. He remembered the warmth, realizing only now that it had been Grissom's blood, and that there was still a thin, dry layer on his chest.

"Hey, there you are!" Nick yelled at him halfway across the ER.

Grateful for the distraction, he ignored Nick's lack of decorum and waited for him and the rest of the graveyard shift to get close enough to talk without yelling. Predictably, they barraged him with their questions at the same time. "How is he?" "What happened?" "Was he really shot?"

"Whoa, whoa," Brass held up his hands to fend off the questions. "Take it easy. They just took him up to surgery. It was close, but the doc said he chances are good." Catherine returned just as he made the statement, and he pushed on before she could correct him. "Since it occurred at one of your scenes, and since the shooting's an easy case, the sheriff is going to let you guys take it."

The shock was apparent on her face, but Catherine moved past it quickly. "Good. Sara, you worked the Holcomb case with Grissom, right? You and Nick go back and finish that one up. Warrick, you're the primary on Grissom's shooting, Sara and Nick will help you once they're done with their case."

"Wait a minute," Sara interjected. "Three CSIs on an open and shut case? And the Holcomb murder was done, Grissom said he'd finished collecting the evidence."

Catherine's eyes narrowed in anger at the younger woman. "Are you going to question everything I say while Grissom's-" she cut herself off and took a deep breath before continuing. "Look, I know you're all upset, but we need to keep working. The evidence in Jody's case may be collected, but it still needs to be processed. And as for the shooting, we need to make sure everything gets collected and processed by the book. We don't want to give the judge any reason to question the evidence, so I want to have at least two people present at all times. Okay? By the time you're done, shift will be over and hopefully Grissom will be out of surgery and we'll know more."

"You'll call if anything…" Warrick started but couldn't finish.

"You have to ask?" Catherine responded.

"Yeah, sorry."

The team turned around and walked slowly, their reluctance clear as they plodded away to the exit. Brass and Catherine watched in silence until they were gone, unconsciously moving closer together in support.

Catherine was the first to bread the silence. "We should find out where they took him."

Brass started out of his thoughts. "Yeah. Vascular surgery, right?"

The same woman at the counter gave them directions to the OR's empty waiting room where their silence resumed. Jim fidgeted on the couch and watched Catherine pace around the room's confines. He fiddled with the TV remote, but shut it off when the news interrupted some sitcom with the breaking story about a law-enforcement employee shot on the job. Leaning forward with his head in his hands, he reviewed the past few hours, looking for anything that should have clued him into Gil's danger.

"It wasn't your fault," Catherine spoke up suddenly. Brass raised his head to find her watching him, her pacing stopped. "Sheriff Atwater called and told me what happened, how you went to the scene when Grissom didn't return when he should have. You probably saved his life."

"I'm a detective, Catherine. I should have known something was going to happen. Maybe the shooter was our suspect's accomplice, or maybe a burglar's been working that neighborhood-"

"Or maybe it was one of those terrible, random things that happen every day," she interrupted firmly. "You can't know everything that's going to happen."

"Hell, Catherine, I should know better than to let Gil go to any scene alone. Between leaving his gun behind, and confronting serial killers, and who knows what else he hasn't told us-"

"He had an officer when he arrived, right?" she interrupted again.

"Yeah, O'Reilly had an interview in the area so I asked him to clear the scene first." He leaned back against the back of the couch and groaned with the tension. "Okay, I see your point, but I still feel like I missed something."

"Well, this is your case, so if-"

"Oh, damn, what time is it," he groaned. He was shocked when his watch showed that just over an hour had passed since Grissom had been shot. "I need to call the station, see if they've finished booking the shooter." He punched the number into the waiting room's phone then ran his free hand over his head while it rang. "This is Jim Brass, I'm calling on the status of the guy arrested earlier for the shooting of Gil Grissom, uh huh, right. What!" he yelled abruptly.

Catherine crossed her arms across her middle and leaned against the wall across from Brass and waited.

"Are you sure? Yeah, yeah, okay, page me if anything else comes up." He hung up the phone and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"What?" Catherine snapped impatiently.

"You're not going to believe this," he bit out irritably. "The shooter has apparently had a psychotic break. He was banging his head against the cell wall so they had to call in a doctor sedate him. They're taking him to the loony bin for observation now."

"Damnit, this guy's gonna get off with an insanity plea, isn't he!" Catherine protested. "Well not on my watch." With a few steps she was at the phone Brass had just used and made her own call. "Hey Warrick, I just got word that the shooter may be trying for an insanity plea. Yeah, that was my reaction. Make sure you- oh, you know what to do, just make sure we can nail this guy, all right? No, no word yet, I'll let you know as soon as we do." She set the phone into its cradle and dropped onto the couch next to Brass. "This sucks."

He chuckled. "This isn't exactly my idea of a good time, either."

Both grew somber again. Brass looked at the clock, trying to figure out how long Grissom had been in the operating room and Catherine resumed her pacing.

"He's going to be all right," she announced.

He raised a brow at her statement. "Yeah, sure," he agreed.

He leaned into the cushions and let his eyes close. Catherine left the room to continue pacing the hallway, eventually returning with a cup of bad vending machine coffee. Brass considered leaving to get his own, but changed his mind when she grimaced at the first sip. Instead, he picked up a magazine from the table and made a half-hearted attempt to focus on an article about the Green Bay Packers.

And so they passed the two hours of waiting, with Catherine pacing and Jim fidgeting, until a man in blue scrubs walked in and they both looked at him, frozen. "Ms. Willows, Mr. Brass?" he asked.

"How is he doctor," Catherine asked, then held her breath.

"Mr. Grissom made it through surgery, and his vitals are returning to normal." Both sagged with relief, Catherine leaning against the wall for support. "The bullet missed the artery," the doctor continued, "but hit a large vein which caused the rapid blood loss. We were able to repair the damage however, and I expect him to make a complete recovery."

"How close was it," Jim asked hesitantly.

"Close. If you had been a few minutes later…" the doctor's voice drifted off, sparing them the grisly details.

"When can we see him?" Catherine asked.

"Once we're sure he's recovered from the anesthetics, he'll be moved into a private room. I'll have someone get you when it's time."

"Thanks, Doc," Brass said as he rose from the couch and extended his right hand.

The doctor smiled and shook the offered hand. "Don't thank me, thank the patient, he did all the hard work. He's a fighter, I have no doubt he'll do just fine."

Catherine ran over to the phone as the doctor left the room. "I gotta tell the others, they need to know, and oh my god, his mother, how the hell am I gonna tell his mother!" She froze and looked at Brass with panic in her eyes.

He stepped closer and gripped her arms. "Hey, calm down, it'll be okay," he said, giving her a slight shake in emphasis. When the panic didn't subside he pulled her close into an awkward embrace.

"Oh my god, Jim," she cried into his shoulder. "We were so close to losing him."

"But we didn't, okay?" He rubbed her back tentatively. "That's the important thing. Gil's gonna be fine, and we'll nail the son-of-a-bitch who did this to him, and in no time he'll be back at work as annoying as ever, right?" He felt her nod against his shoulder. "Now as much as I'm enjoying this little hug of ours, don't you have some good new to spread?"

She laughed wetly. "Yeah, sorry." She pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. After a few deep breaths, she tugged on her shirt hem to straighten the wrinkles and composed her face. "Okay, let's do this."

TBC

A/N: I've already started the next chapter, so you should see it in a day or two