Hello again, all. Here you go, the second to last chapter of Shadows...if I don't get any feedback, I may just leave it here. Huge, gigantic thanks to Emmithar, not only for keeping me interested and nagging me ten thousand times a day to write, but for telling me how awful my bits and pieces were.

This is quite possibly the longest chapter I've ever written...there's one more left, then anything left hanging in the balance will be resumed in the sequel, entitled "Betrayal".

Comments are appreciated and adored!

Jenny

Nine:

Sara stared out the window, her head racing with a million and one questions about Greg and what had happened tonight. In the distance, she could hear Catherine's voice, but it was too detached to even make out the words she was speaking. With every raindrop that fell on the window ledge, a new concern entered her mind.

What was Greg doing outside? He was supposed to be at home, sleeping. Why hadn't she stayed to make sure he would be okay? They had shared such an intense night, why had she assumed he would just bounce back and be okay? She had been crazy to leave him by himself. The more she mulled over it, the more certain she was that she had made a mistake by leaving him alone. Maybe this whole thing was partially her fault.

She felt her lip quiver, but forced her tears to remain unshed, this wasn't the time to have a pity party, Greg needed her to be focused and calm once the doctors had done their job. Once they did what they had to do, she would be able to collect any remaining evidence, and see for herself that he was going to be okay. He had to be okay. They had been through so much already, she couldn't have brought him back just for him to die. At the thought of Greg dying, she slightly shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. Death was not an option.

Catherine watched as Sara's eyes filled with tears, her own heart breaking for her friend. Sara had been an emotional wreck after Greg had left, and just when she finally got her life in order, he had returned and turned her life upside down again. How much more could one couple take? One woman?

She hadn't agreed with Greg's decision to pack up and leave without a notice to anyone, but she had to admire the way he had come back to fix his wrongdoings, no matter how challenging it was. Something inside Greg had changed, and while she didn't know what had caused the change, everyone could see the difference in the way he presented himself. Gone was the kid who used to play practical jokes in the hallway, who used to have a crush the size of the Pacific Ocean on Sara. He had left with a broken soul, and come back with a tortured one. Of course, the one person who should have--and needed to--notice the change was still waiting for the old Greg to resurface. If only it were that simple.

Catherine gently touched Sara's wrist, getting the brunette's attention, "Will you be okay if I head home? Warrick will wait here with you."

Sara gave a slight shrug, barely moving her gaze from the window. Catherine watched helplessly as Sara retreated further into herself, her slender body trembling every so often. She liked to think she knew the brunette better than most, they had been through some very trying times together, and she had gained a lot of insight on her younger friend. She knew that behind Sara's tough exterior was an uncertain and apprehensive girl who sometimes needed to be reassured and comforted just like everyone else.

Reluctant to leave her friend, she slowly walked towards Warrick, who was staring at the coffee pot with a troubled expression on his face. Rubbing his shoulder, she whispered softly, "Hey, you okay?"

"Define okay." Warrick replied tensely, gripping the coffee pot's handle tightly, "He may not live here anymore, but he's still one of our own."

"Baby, I hate to do this, but I've got to go...I promised Lindsey I'd have breakfast with her this morning, and you know how Lyle gets..." Catherine whispered softly, her hand gently brushing against Warrick's cheek, "Call me when you hear something, okay?"

Warrick wrapped his arms around her, inhaling the sweet citrus scent of her shampoo, "Give them both a hug for me. As soon as I know something, I'll pass it along."

"Keep an eye on Sara," Catherine added, stealing a glance at her friend, "She's not taking this too well. She's not as tough as she wants us to believe."

Warrick sighed, "Can you blame her? First her accident, then he leaves, he finally comes home and this happens...I'd be having a hard time swallowing it too."

"Just watch out for her, and try to remember that she's not just here for a friend or a case, she loves him."

-----

The first recognizable feeling he had was an extreme sense of panic. It wasn't often that he woke up and didn't know where he was, or how he got there. The last thing he remembered was curling up to sleep next to Sara, but that felt like it had happened centuries ago, and while he wasn't sure what was going on, this bed definitely wasn't Sara's.

He almost relaxed, assuming that the trying events of the past few days had been an intense dream and Sara hadn't really found him living in Texas. The obvious conclusion was that he had gotten drunk and passed out, imagining everything. As he slowly came around, however, he realized he wasn't in his own bed either.

If he wasn't dreaming, and he wasn't at Sara's, where did that leave him? Not even his wildest nightmare had left him in this much pain before, and a dream wouldn't explain where he was.

His eyes felt heavy, as if they were coated with lead, and the harder he tried to open them, the more tired he felt. Painful bright lights assaulted him the moment he weakly managed to blink open his eyes. The lights, however, were the least of his concern as another wave of excruciating pain soared through every fiber of his weakened body.

Above him stood a stunningly beautiful blonde, her green eyes warm and caring, "Mr. Sanders? Can you hear me?"

He was only able to moan in response, his mind racing as he replayed the last events he remembered through his mind... He had gotten up, his head throbbing painfully, and had taken a few aspirin to relieve some of the pain. After an hour of fitfully tossing and turning in bed, he had taken a hot shower, only to find that he felt worse exiting the shower than he had entering. As a last resort, he had decided a walk might clear his head, and had left a note for Sara saying he was going for a walk through the park. The last thing he had wanted was for her to arrive home, find him gone, and assume the worst. After that, everything was a mystery.

The divine blonde stroked his hair gently, "Mr. Sanders? You've just gone through a pretty serious operation. Your sedatives are starting to wear off, but I've already added some pain medication to your IV, it should start to take effect soon. You've been through a rough ordeal, but there's no reason why you shouldn't be okay."

Greg moaned again, trying in vain to move his arms or legs, only to be disappointed when no progress at all was made.

"Try to relax, your medication will start to kick in soon. When you start feeling better, we'll move you to a room and you can have a few visitors. You have a few very worried friends waiting for you."

Greg let his eyes fall closed, too tired to protest as the nurse checked the tubes and needles attached to his bruised body. He heard her footsteps heading away from him and towards another patient who was starting to come to, and as fatigue overtook him, he was vaguely aware of monitors starting to go haywire as an alarm sounded.

----

The silence was deafening as the clock slowly ticked away each second that passed, the sound only reminding both Sara and Warrick that the still had no information on their friend.

Sara rubbed her eyes tiredly; what on earth had possessed her to go to work and leave Greg home alone after going through such a rough night? He was in a difficult position, he needed comfort, company, reassurance, and instead of helping him, she had left him alone so she could go to work.

Was her job really that important to her? Would it have killed her to take one night off to care for Greg? Sure, he may not need to be babied, but they had a lot of things that needed to be discussed and resolved, and now they may never have that chance.

Deep down she knew that she had no choice but to go to work. Like Greg, she had some ideas and issues that needed to be worked through, and she wouldn't have been able to do that staying home with him. She usually thought better while at work, the environment made her able to separate facts from feelings, and right now she desperately needed to do that. So many issues had been brought up, and it wasn't until that moment that she had realized he had gone through a loss just as she had when he left.

She couldn't have prevented Greg from being attacked, and she knew it was wrong to try to place the blame anywhere but in the attacker's hands. The more she thought about it, though, the more she concluded that if Greg hadn't moved, he would have still been working for the lab, not walking alone through McLauren Park, distracted, upset, and a perfect target.

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she stretched out her legs, groaning as the sudden return of blood flow made them tingle. If Greg hadn't left Vegas...that statement alone brought her mind back to their talk the night before.

She let her gaze drift to Warrick, calling his name softly.

Warrick's tired eyes met her own, a silent question gracing his features as he waited for her to continue.

"What happened between you and Greg the night he left? Last night...well, last night he told me a lot of things, and your name sort of came up." Sara said quietly.

"There's not much to tell, we got into an argument, people argue all the time." He muttered, almost incoherently, as he turned away.

Sara pressed further, knowing that there had to be more than Warrick was letting on, "That's it? That's not how Greg sees it...he said you were right about something, he just wouldn't tell me what it was."

"I'd rather not discuss it...this isn't the time nor the place." Warrick said, his voice giving her a quiet warning.

Sara sighed loudly, "If it wasn't anything, why won't you talk to me about it?"

"It's none of your business!" Warrick replied angrily, pushing himself to his feet and walking across the room, "Leave it alone, Sara."

"You've got something to hide, don't you? Something happened between the two of you that you're both too ashamed to talk about."

"Sara, drop it." Warrick warned, "You don't want to get into this right now."

"I don't, or you don't?" Sara challenged.

Warrick shook his head, "I'm not going to get into this with you." He said cooly, throwing his used cup into the trash with more force than was necessary, his hands clenching.

"So that's it? You're just going to leave? We don't even know if Greg, your friend, is going to live or die, and you're going to just walk out on him?"

Warrick turned back to face the angry brunette, "You didn't seem to mind him walking out on you."

"He is trying to fix his mistakes. I'm giving him a second chance. Would it kill you to do the same?" Sara asked, hurt and anger apparent in her trembling voice.

Warrick shook his head with a wry smile, "He's past second chances, but if you want to trust him again, baby him and coddle him, go ahead, but don't expect us to pick up the pieces when he leaves you again. He will leave again, once a coward, always a coward."

"He isn't going to leave again." Sara replied bitterly, her voice stronger than she actually felt.

Warrick walked towards the door, stopping to look at her briefly, "Why else would he be walking through the park in the middle of the night?"

"Rule number one, Warrick, never assume anything." Sara said icily, "If you expect the worst of someone, they'll never disappoint you."

"And if you put someone on a pedestal, you're going to get your heart broken." Warrick said quietly, walking out of the room without a second glance to the trembling brunette.

Once alone, Sara collapsed onto the plastic chair once more, fighting to keep her tears at bay. He couldn't have been leaving, not after everything they had shared. Warrick had to be wrong, Greg couldn't have been leaving. He just couldn't have been, it didn't make any sense.

The door creaked open and Sara hurriedly brushed away her tears, unsure of why she expected to see Warrick's face, after the argument they had just had. Instead, she was met with an unfamiliar face, looking intently in the room for something. Perhaps it was someone from dayshift, with questions on the case...but considering they hadn't handed over the case, it was an unlikely possibility.

"Excuse me," the girl spoke in a soft Southern drawl, "I'm looking for information on a Greg Sanders. They told me he was still in surgery, but that there was a room I could wait in down here, I hope this is the right place."

Sara's first instinct was to say no. Something about this strange woman rubbed her the wrong way, making her weary about letting her get close to Greg. A paranoid feeling deep in her stomach told her that this wasn't some long-lost friend of Greg's, it was clear he had another life in Texas, this very well may be that other life.

"This is the right place." Sara said cautiously, watching as relief filled the young woman's features as she took off her shawl and laid down her giant brown and red purse, "I don't think I've met you before. My name is Sara--"

"Sidle. Sara Sidle. I'd recognize you anywhere." the girl gushed, pulling out a bottle of water from her purse, "Greg talked about you day in and day out."

Sara frowned, she was too warm and friendly to be a girlfriend, so who the hell was she?

"How do you know Greg?" Sara asked, her tone a little harsher than she intended.

The girl's eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand, "Oh my Gosh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm always getting carried away with myself, I never think to stop and use my common sense, people tell me all the time that I need to gather my thoughts before speaking...you must think I'm a total couyon. My name is Angelle, Angelle Orgeron. I'm a friend of Greg's from back home."

"Back home?" Sara asked pointedly, "You mean Texas?"

Angelle nodded, taking a sip of her water before replacing the cap, "Greg and I are very close, we met while he was staying in New Orleans. He mentioned going to Texas, and I thought I'd pop along for the ride, my family is gone, there was nothing tying me down in the city. He's a wonderful man."

"I know." Sara replied evenly, hating herself for the blatant jealousy that had began to pump through her veins. Texas was not Greg's home, Las Vegas was. And what did this girl mean by "very close"? Where they dating, sleeping together, business partners? And how did she know that Greg was even in the hospital? Weariness of the Southern girl quickly gave way to suspicion, as Sara's mind kicked into "work mode". Something about Angelle was rubbing her the wrong way, and she was going to find out exactly what it was.

Angelle fidgeted with her purse strap, sighing heavily, "I wish we were back home, if something like this had happened to Greg at home, I'd have my supplies and we'd know he was being taken care of." Off of Sara's curious look, she continued, "I'm a traiteur."

"A traiteur?" Sara asked, weariness over the girl giving way to natural curiosity.

"A healer. It's a gift that has been passed down through my family for many generations, I was fortunate to learn from my PawPaw before he died."

"A healer? Like a faith healer?" Sara asked, raising her eyebrows, "No offense, but I don't think you could have done too much for Greg, not for something as serious as surgery."

Angelle smiled slightly, shaking her head, "You wouldn't understand, your mind isn't open enough. Prayer alone won't heal the injured, being a traiteur is a frame of mind, something that encompasses your body as a whole. Some treatment comes from spiritual prayer, some comes from cures and remedies that have been passed down from generation to generation, some comes from the gris-gris, some is actual medical knowledge. You have to learn to combine these practices and use them to treat the ill. I've treated over 1,000 people."

"That's a good story, but without the knowledge of modern medicine, the world wouldn't be what it is today." Sara replied, letting science back her up. The idea of spiritual healing and voodoo were something she considered legend, at best.

Angelle flashed Sara a mysterious smile, leaning back against her chair, "That's exactly what Greg said to me, until I treated him for an earache. Poor thing was in terrible pain, and the doctor couldn't see him for two days, so I cured him. Since then, he hasn't argued in the credibility of traiteurs."

"Okay." Sara replied, drawing her knees to her chest as she again watched anxiously for the doctor. Angelle was now boring her, and Sara wasn't going to be preached to over something that she couldn't possibly believe in.

The room was silent for a few moments before Angelle spoke again, "Las Vegas is nothing like I've ever seen before. I hope that after Greg is feeling better, he can take me to some of the casinos, I've never seen anything this...grand...before."

"It's all a show, that's all Vegas is. People living and acting larger than life, when in reality, all that separates them from any other person in the world is a wad of cash in their pocket." Sara replied, her tone bitter, "I wish they'd tell us something on his condition."

Angelle nodded, "When I arrived and found he was still in surgery, I was surprised, it's not exactly a hop, skip, and jump from Texas to Nevada."

"How did you find out about Greg?" Sara asked, unable to quell her curiosity any longer, also unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice, "Did Warrick call you?"

"Warrick?" Angelle questioned, "No, it was a woman from the hospital. I'm Greg's emergency contact, when we were living together, it seemed like a good idea."

"You two lived together?" Sara asked, her voice strained as she stood and walked away from the other woman. It was hurting her a lot more than she had expected to hear that Greg had moved on without her while he was away.

Angelle smiled warmly, pulling a picture of her and Greg out of her purse, "We lived together for a little over three months, neither of us went to Houston with any definite plans, and apartments are so much more expensive there than in New Orleans, so we split the cost until we were both stable enough to be on our feet. He's an absolute gem to live with, kind, generous, not to mention handsome. He really has what it takes to get a woman going, of course, you already know that."

Icy coldness seized Sara's stomach as Angelle's words became embedded in her brain. Was this why Greg had been reluctant to come back to Vegas with her? Had he already moved on with another woman? So he hadn't been as lonely and miserable as she herself had been. That wasn't even the worst of it, the worst was that he hadn't told her. Then again, why should he have? He hadn't told her anything else, why was anything a surprise at this point?

She remained silent, knowing that if she looked at the other woman, it would only add fuel to the fire raging inside her or cause her to break down in tears. She wasn't going to give Greg's new girlfriend the satisfaction.

Her irritation turned to nervous fear when the door opened and a weary nurse walked in, a silver clipboard in hand. She rifled through the papers, a solemn look on her face, "I have some news on your friend, poor dear."

"News?" Sara asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, "How did the surgery go?"

Angelle rose to her feet, standing next to Sara as they both waited with baited breath to hear on their friend's condition. The nurse pursed her lips, shaking her head slowly, "I'm sorry girls, he coded in the recovery wing just a few minutes ago, we still aren't sure exactly what happened."

TBC