Author's Note: There will be an epilogue.

Quick poll: Who thinks I resolved the Cat/Nick storyline? Who wants another scene for them? Say so in the reviews, please.

Also, there will be no preview of upcoming stories. I have too many ideas. I will tell you it will be either So Close to Home, Defining Death, or something completely new. Nevada Devil kind of died. Sorry.

Chapter Eighteen: Every Time A Bell Rings

Danny tried hard to listen to his court-appointed attorney, but found if very difficult to understand what he was saying. The words went in one ear and out the other. He didn't know what was going on. His mind was on Sara, and only Sara, and he didn't really care what happened to him anyway.

So when his lawyer asked him those dreaded words, he had to lie. "Do you understand me, Daniel?"

The teenager nodded dully. "But I did it," he said. "I don't care what they do to me. I helped him to kill people. That's… that's not right."

"But you never actually killed anyone, did you Daniel?" The lawyer asked, sounding exasperated. Danny had the feeling that his lawyer didn't think very highly of him. He was constantly looking at his watch as if there was somewhere he'd rather be. On Christmas day, Danny didn't doubt it. But he also felt like the lawyer thought Danny was an idiot. That was easy for a lawyer to think. Lawyers thought everyone who didn't finish school were idiots. But Danny knew a lot more than the lawyer did on how to survive when you didn't trust anyone in the world. Danny knew a lot about fighting.

"I didn't pull no triggers," Danny said. "But I didn't do nothing to stop Mickey from doing it."

"But you didn't know that Mickey was going to kill that family, did you?" his lawyer asked.

Danny knew the answer he wanted, but he couldn't give it. "Of course I knew. Mickey's only been planning it for the last month."

His lawyer rolled his eyes and leaned across the table so he could look Danny in the eye. "Listen, kid. Do you want to go to jail? Because you're doing a bang-up job of incriminating yourself."

"I should pay for the crimes I've done," Danny said. "I'm not scared."

"It's not sunshine and roses in prison, Daniel," his lawyer said. "Your mommy doesn't cook for you and your roommate won't be so nice."

"If you knew anything about me, Mr. Douglas, you'd know that I don't have a mother, and I'm used to 'not nice,'" Daniel returned.

But the lawyer sighed and leaned back in his chair as he shook his head, taking in Danny's small frame. "They'll make mince meat out of you, kid. Believe me."

"I've dealt with worse at home," Danny returned. "Believe me."

"Look," the lawyer said. "You're sorry, right? That's good. The jury will take pity on you for that. And you're young, and you're kinda cute too, they'll like that too. So you have a few things going for you. I doubt you'll get a life sentence. First offense, sixteen-year-old kid, you'll probably just get a few years in juvy, but that's with me on your side. You gotta do everything I tell you, understand?"

"I don't think I want you as my lawyer, Mr. Douglas," Danny said.

"Without me, kid, you're looking at fifteen to twenty hard time," said the lawyer.

Danny sighed. He didn't feel like he deserved special treatment just because he was young, or cute, or because he admitted remorse. He still did what he did. And four people were dead because of it. Five, if you counted Mickey himself. And six, if Sara…

"Excuse me," he said. "Do you know what happened to Sara?"

The lawyer looked confused momentarily, then it seemed to register in his head. "The CSI that Mickey shot," he said. "Right. Last I checked, she was just coming out of surgery."

"Is there anyway that I could maybe… see her?" His voice trailed off until it was barely audible because he knew the chances of seeing her were slim. And she probably didn't want to see him anyway. She probably hated him. He even hated himself a little.

The lawyer sighed, seeming to soften a little upon this request. "I'm afraid not, Daniel. However, we do have someone else here to see you."

Danny was confused. Who would want to see him? And then, the door opened and his uncle stepped in and his heart plummeted into his stomach and was devoured by the acids. "I don't want to talk to you, he said."

Uncle Ian looked down then up again as he kneeled next to Danny's chair. His eyes were bloodshot and tired. His breath smelled of coffee. He was sober.

"Danny…" he said quietly. "I know I haven't done right by you. And because of that, I haven't done right by your mother."

Danny's lower lip trembled as he watched this man speak. He knew later he would just get drunk again and render all these apologies void.

"I'm hiring a lawyer," he said to Danny. "A better one." He looked at Danny's lawyer. "No offense, sir."

"None taken," said the lawyer with a stiff smile that showed at least some offense had been taken.

Uncle Ian turned to look at Danny again. "I know a lot of this is my fault, and so I want to help you, Danny. I don't want you to end up like your father. I'm sure your mother wouldn't want that either. So it's costing me all I have, but I'm getting you the best lawyer I can afford right now, kiddo. I'm gonna clean up my act, too. I promise."

Danny was shaking his head. "You said that before…" he whispered. "You've said that a lot."

"I know…" Uncle Ian said, tears beginning to leak out of the corners of his eyes. "I know, but this time I mean it, Danny. I mean it so much that I'm willing to give you up for a little while, until I can take care of you again. When you get out of jail there's someone else who will look after you for a few months, until I've gone to my AA meetings and I've gotten myself together. I'm gonna get a better job, Danny. Something I should have done a long time ago. I'm filling out applications. It's going to be rough, but…" He hesitated. The next words seemed like they were difficult for him to say. "But your Dad is helping us out some."

Danny blinked. "Dad?" he asked, breathlessly.

Uncle Ian took a deep breath and bit his lip before he nodded. "When your mother was pregnant, he actually did something smart. He started a college fund for you, Danny. With what little money he had then, he invested it in your future. And he didn't want to touch it. He couldn't. That's why he stole, Danny. That's why he was arrested. The state took back every dime. But they couldn't touch your account, because that was what was left of his own hard-earned cash from scrimping and saving as a janitor. He knew that, Danny. Your father was smart. That's why he never put stolen funds into your account. He didn't want the government to ever try and take it from you. It's your money, Danny."

"Then use it," Danny said. "Use it to buy yourself a suit and tie for those interviews you're gonna be having. Use it to buy real food instead of pork rinds and whiskey. Use it to help clean yourself up."

"No, Danny," Ian said. "I'm saving that money so you can go to college. A cheap college… but college is college, right? Your parents saved that money for you and just you."

But Danny was adamant. "You're using all your money on a lawyer for me. Use some of mine on a suit for you. You can do that. Can't you? I probably won't be going to any college anytime soon anyway."

And then, Uncle Ian was smiling through his tears as he shook his head. "How the hell did you turn out to be such a good kid with such a lousy uncle?"

Danny laughed bitterly. "Believe it or not… I think a lot of it was Mickey."

Uncle Ian sniffed and wiped his eyes before reaching out and embracing his nephew. Surprised only for a moment, Danny raised his hands and hugged him back.

She was awake and allowed to see visitors at around one o'clock. Within that time, Grissom had eventually convinced Warrick to go home and see his family for a few hours, with the help of a scolding phone call from his grandmother. Greg and Catherine were the first ones to rush up to their room, beating out Grissom, Nick and Brass by a good ten seconds as they both rushed to either side of the bed. She laughed at the sight of them, and her laughter was like Christmas bells.

"Look," Catherine said, gesturing at the slings she and Sara both wore. "We're twins."

"How quaint," Sara remarked with a smirk.

"When are you out of here, Sara?" Greg asked. "I want to take you… anywhere. Where do you want to go?"

Sara laughed again as Grissom appeared in the doorway followed by Nick and Brass. Her smile faded a little at the sight of them, her eyes trained on Grissom. He held eye-contact with her momentarily before looking away again.

"Rumor has it," Sara said, still watching Grissom, "that you saved us all, Greg."

"Including me," Nick said, stepping into the room with Brass. "But that's a story for another time. It's your day, Sara."

"It's all of our day," Sara corrected. "It's Christmas, for God's sake." She raised a weak hand at Brass. "Hey."

"Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" Brass said with a small smile.

Sara laughed lightly. "You would know."

"Now maybe you'll listen to me when I tell you to wait for backup," Brass returned.

"Leave it to you to make sure I learn something from this," Sara replied. "Where's Warrick?"

"He's on his way in," Grissom replied, speaking for the first time since entering. "I sent him home to spend time with his family."

"Good," Sara said. "They need him more than I do. So Greg asks a good question. How long am I stuck in this place?"

"At least two weeks," Grissom said. "Before they even think of discharging you. It depends on your physiotherapy and barring any infections…"

"We'll see if I can't make that happen any faster," Sara replied.

"Always anxious to get up on your feet, aren't you?" Grissom asked quietly.

"I had one hell of a New Year's party planned," Sara explained. "Like I'm going to spend it here?"

"You'll have to," Greg said. "But don't worry. We'll come and have a party with you. And if you need someone to kiss come midnight…"

"I think I'll be OK, Greg," Sara said, laughing lightly. "What happened to the kids? Danny and Mickey?"

Greg looked away and became exceptionally taciturn. Catherine placed a kind hand on Sara's left arm.

"Sweetie, Mickey's dead," she said. "And Danny's been arrested."

"Go easy on him," Sara said quickly. She looked at Brass. "Would they?"

"It's not up to me," he said with a helpless shrug. "I heard the D.A. is going to charge him as a juvenile for accessory, and a good word from you could help."

At that moment, Warrick skidded around the corner of the room, bearing a pink cardboard box. He stopped and stood in the middle of the room, beaming at Sara.

"Since we ate all of the other pie," he said. "I picked up one for you on my way over."

She looked delighted. "It better be damn good pie," she said. "I've been shot."

He laughed and approached the bed, opening it to reveal a still steaming pumpkin pie. "Fresh from the bakery," he said. He looked over at Grissom. "The only thing better is homemade."

Grissom rolled his eyes.

But Sara was grinning from ear to ear as she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent. "Mm…" she said. "Pie…"

Catherine took the pie from Sara, along with the stack of paper plates and plastic utensils he'd brought and began to cut the pie.

"I wouldn't give that to Catherine if I was you," Warrick said as Catherine served up a piece. "You should have seen what she did to the last pie."

Catherine glared at Warrick as she handed Sara her first piece.

"Don't worry, Catherine," Sara said, taking the pie. "I trust you."

Catherine smiled.

They hung around for a long time, once again chatting and speaking amiably. Nick even managed to find It's A Wonderful Life playing on TCM on Sara's TV. Seeing as both he and Sara had been searching for it all over the networks the night before, they shared a triumphant grin. So while the movie played and the pie quickly disappeared, they spent most of the day together, although Warrick did have to slip out to spend the evening with his 'other' family. Catherine eventually left too, wishing to spend the rest of the day with Lindsey and her family and pick up a few last minute gifts for her daughter and her mother. Greg had gotten a call from his mother, and after saying "Merry Christmas," he tried to get rid of her as politely as possible. But when this proved useless he stepped outside for a more private conversation. Nick, too, received a call from his whole family in Texas, who said "Merry Christmas, ya old dog!" so loudly in unison that everyone in the room could hear the celebrating Stokes family, and Nick even went a little red.

After Nick hung up, he looked at Sara and Grissom. "I should be heading home, too," he said looking at his watch. "It's been a long day and if I'm looking forward to my day off. It will be spent sleeping, I can assure you." He looked at Sara. "You gonna be OK, darlin'?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," she replied with a strong smile. And with a nod at Grissom, Nick disappeared out of the door.

Finally alone, his hands deep in his pockets and his eyes on the floor, Grissom approached Sara's bed for the first time. When at the foot of it, he looked up and smiled at her.

"Hey, stranger," she said, in a tiny voice. "You've stayed so far away from me all day, someone might think you were feeling awkward."

He sighed and looked down again, straightening out the sheets on her bed. "You really scared me today, Sara," he said quietly.

"Nah," Sara said, waving it away like it was nothing. "A wound like that? You knew I'd be OK."

"Logically, the odds were in your favor…" Grissom said slowly. "But the thing about statistics is, the odds of you dying of complications from the wound exist for a reason."

"You didn't come with me in the ambulance," she said. "Did you?"

"I couldn't," he replied defensively, although her tone was anything but accusatory. "I… there was a scene, and the others were there, and… They told me you'd be OK. And then this whole fiasco with Nick… I…"

"Keep the secret," Sara said, nodding. "Even until the end."

"It hurt," he said, "that I couldn't be with you. That I couldn't show how much I wanted to be with you."

"You have stoicism down to an art form," Sara said with a smile. "Come closer. I miss you."

He did, his hand trailing on the side of the bed until her hand found his and clutched it tightly. He looked up at her. "I don't lie," he said quietly, "for anyone. Except you."

Her thumb stroked the top of his hand. "You lie well," she said softly, her quiet tones luring his face closer so he could hear her better. And perchance she could steal a kiss…

He pushed her hair back from her pale face and laughed lightly. "I'm so glad that everything worked out tonight," he said.

Their faces were inches apart. "Merry Christmas, Gil," Sara whispered.

He leaned his head against hers. She closed her eyes…

The door opened.

They broke apart instantly, and Sara withdrew her hand as they saw Greg walk in, putting his phone away.

"Hey, where'd everybody go?" he asked, looking around. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Grissom and Sara said abruptly.

He looked confused, then shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "I'll just… go…" he said, gesturing towards the door.

"No, you stay," Grissom said, making Sara turn her head sharply to look at him. "I'll go."

"Grissom—" Sara began to protest.

"I'm the only one without the day off tomorrow," he said to her quietly. "I'll have to sleep sometime."

He patted her on the arm and gave her a pursed-lipped smile before walking towards the door. He paused as he passed Greg and the two exchanged looks before Grissom continued on and left, leaving Greg and Sara alone.

Greg took a deep breath and held it. Sara thought he was going to turn blue. But then, he let out a long sigh. "You two, uh… I mean, you guys looked like… You were pretty close…"

Sara couldn't help herself. She closed her eyes and started to laugh at the irony. After all they'd done to make sure no one ever knew… Her eyes stung and her throat constricted as the tears leaked out of her eyes.

Greg looked horrified. "Oh my God, I didn't mean— I'm so sorry, Sara!"

She laughed harder and wiped the tears away from her eyes. "No, Greg, no, I'm just so tired and my arm hurts like hell. It's not you." She smiled at him for good measure. But he looked away from her and chewed on his lip, wringing out his hands. She sighed. "What did your mother say?"

He seemed to grow even more uncomfortable. "Oh, she, uh…" He rubbed his arms as if he was cold. "She wanted to know why I didn't come home and see them this year. She… she wanted to make sure I was around good people. That I was safe…"

Sara smiled. "You're always safe with me," she said quietly, trying to reassure him. She didn't like it when Greg was uncomfortable. That tended to be when he made his most obnoxious jokes. "Or rather," she said as an afterthought, "I feel safe… with you."

He looked at her then, confusion etched in his eyes. "Sara, I think I should go…"

"I know you shot him, Greg," she whispered. "I know you saved Catherine's life. And mine."

"I don't want to talk about it—" Greg began.

"Well I do," Sara snapped as he backed away towards the door. "Come here, Greg. I want to tell you something."

He seemed exceptionally nervous as he reluctantly adhered to her request and approached her, falling into a chair by her bed. "Sara, can we please just not…"

"You did the right thing," she assured him.

"Catherine said that too," Greg muttered.

"Catherine's smart," Sara said. "You should listen to her once in a while."

He gave her a sly smirk, his old self shining through. "Why? You never do."

Sara frowned. "You wouldn't have done it if you had any other choice. I was stupid. I went in there unprepared. You and Catherine were smart. You knew exactly what you were dealing with and went in there prepared to do whatever you two had to in order to solve the problem. And you did. I'm proud of you, Greg."

"That makes one of us," Greg mumbled.

"Greg, you didn't—"

"You don't know what it's like!" Greg interrupted sharply. She was silenced. He calmed down. "I mean… you don't know what it's like… to know you stopped someone from breathing. I've done it… three times now."

"Twice," Sara corrected, confused.

He shook his head. "Three times," he said again. "I didn't… I didn't pull the trigger, I didn't kill my sister. I know that, now. Even my mother knows that, I think. But she and I both share a common fear of… of me. The things I'd be willing to… to sacrifice to save myself. Nick, he…" Greg closed his eyes and held his breath a minute. Sara surmised he was trying not to cry. He exhaled and continued. "He was given the option tonight of… of dying, or trading my life for his. And do you know what the stupid son of a bitch did? He tried to kill himself. To save… to save me. And do you want to know the funny thing? I…" He closed his eyes tightly and looked away. He seemed determined not to lose his composure in front of her. After another second he went on. "I can't say I would have done the same for him."

He put his hand over his eyes and looked away from her then and she heard the smallest sound escape his lips almost like a stifled sob he was trying to force back down. When he pushed his hand back into his hair he smiled at Sara broadly, but his red eyes glimmered in the buzzing florescent light. "Jesus, look at me," he said. "I'm a wreck. It's Christmas Day, you've been shot, I just interrupted what looked to be a very private moment between you and Grissom, and here I am pouring my stupid heart out to you. This is stupid."

Sara returned the smile and her hand moved to grasp his as she squeezed it tightly. "You held my hand," she said. "In the library, you were holding my hand so tightly I thought you would snap it right off."

He pulled away from her grip. "I was…"

"Terrified," Sara finished for him. "And to be honest, so was I. Greg… we do the strangest things when we're scared. It can bring out the best… and the worst in us. But it doesn't make us anything less than human. You were terrified when you hit the gas in that alley and hit Demetrius James. But you saved that man's life. You were terrified when you came into the library. You were terrified when you shot Mickey. But you saved Catherine's life. And mine. And I'll be that when your sister died, you were terrified too."

"He said that… if I didn't let her go, he'd kill me too…" Greg whispered.

"Then I think it's pretty obvious whose life you saved that night," Sara replied. "And I, for one, am glad you didn't play the martyr. And I'll bet your mother is too."

Greg smiled at her and let out another sigh as he took her hand and they interlaced fingers. "I think I love you, Sara Sidle," he said, his voice airily mocking.

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Why, Greg Sanders who would have guessed you were a hopeless romantic," she returned.

He looked away from her, his eyes refusing to meet hers as he retracted his hand again and rose to his feet. "I should really go," he said. "I, uh… I really have no excuse other than I'm tired and want to crash. I'll see you later?"

She nodded. "You better."

He made to leave when Sara gasped. "No, Greg, wait!"

He stopped and looked at her curiously. "What's up?" he asked.

She was pointing at the TV screen. "This is my favorite part, you have to watch it with me!"

Greg approached the bed again and looked up at the TV. George Bailey was proudly declaring to Bert the policeman that his mouth was bleeding. He smiled as he humored Sara and stood there, watching the end of the movie with her. As the end of the movie came, and George Bailey was singing loudly and happily as his daughter told him about bells and angels, Greg felt Sara's hand squeezing his again. He looked down to see her beaming at him.

"Thanks," she said, "for staying. You can't watch this movie alone, it's too depressing."

He nodded. "Any time," he said.

And somewhere out in the hall, the bell at the reception desk rang. Inexplicably.