A/N: Hello reader type people:D Sorry that it has once again taken me so long to get this out but I got stuck on that wheel again and someone jammed a stick in the spokes! Bastards! To all W.I.T.C.A. members... Are we still stroking?

I want to thank you guys for being patient and most of you for being non-threatening:) JellyBeanChiChi beta'd this and she done a good job:) And I meant to add this at the beginning of my last post but did it late and some missed it. Thank you to all of you for reviewing and pitching me over 500 reviews. It feels like a milestone:)

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Chapter Thirty-Two

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Gil didn't hear the gavel as he walked through the courtroom doors. He was immediately approached by the same reporters who had bogged them down before entering the courtroom and Gil lost it. He pulled back his fist but felt a hand grab his arm as several police officers rushed in between the team and moved the reporters down the hall and out the door.

Gil spun around with his other fist raised and came face to face with Jim who looked at him worriedly. The others stood behind the detective and their faces matched his expression. Gil's eyes shot between his friend's and he turned and hurried down the corridor, as fast as his aching knee would allow, to the men's room. They followed after him but when they got there Jim stopped them.

"Let me go," he said quietly and even Sara didn't argue.

When Jim entered the restroom he automatically heard Gil retching. Jim found his friend kneeling in the first stall and quickly checked to make sure the other three stalls were empty before returning to Gil's aid. He stepped into the stall behind his friend and placed a reassuring hand on Gil's shoulder.

"It's okay, Gil, it's over." Jim said gently as he soothingly rubbed the other man's shoulder, and Gil fought the pursuing dry heaves.

When Gil was done Jim helped him to his feet and supported his friend's weight as they made their way over to the bank of sinks. Gil rinsed the nasty taste out of his mouth and splashed cool water over his face. He leaned forward on the counter and propped himself up on his hands. What he saw when he looked into the mirror disturbed him. His eyes were dark and bloodshot, and he could see in his pale face the capillaries that had been broken when he vomited. But what disturbed him the most was the mix of emotions he saw. Everything that he had worked so hard to control had begun to run amuck again.

"I'm sorry, Jim." Gil said quietly.

"For what, Gil?" The detective asked in an equal tone from where he leaned back against the counter.

"You never should have had to hold me back… and… I never should have turned on you."

Jim sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "Gil…" he struggled to find the right words. "You don't need to apologize to me, Gil. You've been through a lot, and you've made a lot of progress putting it all behind you just to have to dig it all back up again." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he glanced at his friend. "I… talked to Sara yesterday, and she told me that you weren't doing so well… Gil, I should have been there for you."

"W-What were you doing?" Gil asked without accusation.

"Trying to find new leads on your case. The whole team… we've been trying really hard." Jim tried to explain.

"Then you w-were there for me," Gil smiled, although strained, for the first time since his party. "And for that I can never thank you enough."

They smiled at each other in understanding and left the bathroom. On the other side of the door the rest of the team were gathered in wait. They all looked eager to see how their friend was doing and when Gil gave them all a weak smile they all felt a little relieved. Warrick had been comforting Sara but let her go when she went to Gil. She hugged him tightly and he matched her strength as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Shhh… it's okay," she soothed as she felt him begin to shake again.

It was a struggle for Gil to stay composed and not exhibit any of the emotions that fought for supremacy inside of him. But he did, for the most part, even though a few tears escaped. When he let Sara go he turned away and quickly swiped at his eyes. The others looked at the floor or in the other direction to give their supervisor some much needed privacy.

"Let's go home," Sara said quietly as she took Gil's hand and he nodded.

"You did very well in there, Gil." Stacey smiled as he stepped forward and shook Gil's outstretched hand. "You should be very proud of yourself. I watched the jury and I do believe that your testimony will do wonders in landing the conviction."

"Thank you," Gil said quietly. "And thank you for coming, Stacey."

"Dr. Grissom," The young DA greeted as he approached the group. "I think you put a real scare into the defense. Vladimir was… unsettled. You did an excellent job on the stand, sir."

Sir. Gil immediately stiffened when he heard the word. Images of Shelling flashed in his memory. He could practically feel his head yanked by his hair and his jaw forced open. And he could hear Shelling's cold order: "Stick out you tongue."

Gil tried to resist and curl his tongue to the back of his mouth. But Shelling just smiled, and attached a roach clip to the soft, sensitive underside of Gil's tongue. Not one metal tooth missed its fleshy mark. Gil could feel how Shelling gave the clip a hard pinch and held it for several seconds so its teeth dug further into his tongue. Gil screamed in pain and thrashed in their grip till he slumped forward and gasped for air. His body shook as he sobbed

"Let that be a lesson to you." Shelling sneered. "Never speak without permission. You will only speak when given permission and when you do speak you will call us sir, and you will never look us in the eye, because you're garbage. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Was Gil's painfully slurred reply.

"Is he OK?" the DA asked. Greg was quick to catch the attorney and tear his attention away from Grissom for his friend's sake.

"Gil," Sara called his name for the third time as she shook his arm.

Grissom's breathing was rapid and a haunted look dulled his eyes. Gil could still feel the headache caused by Shelling nearly ripping his hair out of his head, and he still felt the bite of the roach clip on his tongue. He began to panic, but he quickly looked at Sara.

"I have to get out of here." His voice was strained from the vomiting.

"Okay, we'll go." Sara said as she felt his tense body beneath her hand and more so felt his own fear clutch at her own heart as she felt her lover's pain.

Before Sara could address Jim, the detective searched the room for the best exit. A large crowd congregated in the corridor by the elevators. As he and Sara processed options to avoid reporters to reach Jim's car, Sara turned back to take Gil's hand. But he was gone.

Frantic, she saw him going through the front doors with Stacey in hot pursuit. Gil stepped into the bright Nevada sun and squinted his eyes against its glare. Reporters crowded at the courthouse steps and the same young man who had accosted him twice spotted Grissom again.

"Dr. Grissom!" he yelled, causing the other reporters to quickly join in.

"Gil, come back inside." Stacey urged as he grabbed Gil's arm.

Gil looked at the therapist and Stacey thought he saw a guarded smile in the older man's eyes and stopped trying to hold him back. Sara brushed passed Stacey and jumped in front of Gil, but Gil grabbed her arm and protectively pushed her behind him before continuing his controlled, dignified descent down the stairs. She came to protect him, but he needed to protect her. Sara could still feel the tension, and while they both felt tinges of panic, she knew he had a flashback. But he was fighting it… and he was winning.

Warrick, Nick, Catherine and Jim surrounded the couple and moved the crowd aside so they could pass. Gil and Sara climbed into the back of Catherine's SUV that was parked across the street. Catherine jumped in behind the wheel and sped off.

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Greg watched with the district attorney as his friends led Grissom and Sara away. Before the D.A. went outside, Greg stopped him. "Could I ask you something?"

"Yes, Mr. Sanders," The man smiled as he turned around.

"That phone number that the defense presented as being the number Grissom used to contact O'Tool, was it processed?"

"To a prepaid phone, yes," the D.A. said. "Untraceable."

"I have a hunch I would like to check on it..."

"Sure," The DA wrote the number down on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to Greg. "Listen, you find out something, you let me know immediately. Here's my card, too."

"I'll do that. Thanks," Greg said as he turned and left.

Seeing Grissom on the witness stand, barely able to contain himself, ate Greg up inside. He had already been through more than any person should ever have to go through and to have someone try to worsen it and humiliate him publicly was more than Greg would take.

When he got to his car, he drove to the lab and went straight to the evidence room. He searched the racks for a moment and pulled down one of the boxes of evidence from Gil's case and sifted through its contents until he found what he was looking for. He held up the plastic evidence back and a triumphant smile stretched across his face.

"Next stop: Ecklie's office," Greg said to no one in particular.

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The reporters felt cheated as Grissom left without a comment. But one member of the crowd seemed especially upset.

Reggie Shelling stood at the back of the crowd of reporters. The Yankees ball cap covered his slicked back hair and the dark sunglasses shaded his hateful eyes. The prop camera that he cradled on his shoulder helped him to blend in with the media professionals.

When he had heard about the trial he couldn't resist being there. He couldn't resist seeing Gil Grissom humiliated once again. The icing on the cake so-to-speak had been when he read the interview that defense attorney Carl Vladimir had given to the Las Vegas Tribune stating that Grissom was in a homosexual relationship with O'Tool. Reggie had laughed for twenty minutes after reading that and thought how glad he was that he hadn't killed the bastard in that shit-hole in the desert.

But now what he saw enraged him. He had not expected to see Grissom at all. Reggie had expected that the sniveling little coward would have scurried down to the basement with all the other rats and make a secret escape. Vladimir was known to be brutal to witnesses on the stand and Reggie had been sure that the attorney would have stepped on Grissom like the piece of garbage that he was.

But as he watched Grissom and his friends make their way down the steps and through the crowd Reggie found himself barely able to contain his rage. He did see something, though, that really caught his eye. The brunette that the investigator felt the need to protect from the crowd. She was beautiful, Reggie had to grant her that, although she obviously had poor taste in men if she was with Grissom.

Reggie caught himself as he reached down to rub his cock through his jeans. Not here. He thought. He knew it would have to wait, but not for long. Raoul had already found him a couple of potential slave girls and later he would enjoy imagining that brunette beneath him as he pounded into one of those teenage sluts. Vladimir had failed to reach his mark and get to Grissom, but Reggie wouldn't. Not this time. Now he would have the perfect leverage to completely destroy the bastard who destroyed his brother.

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When they got into the car Gil's defenses began to break down. He shook violently as Sara wrapped her arms around him and images of his tormentors flashed through his mind. He punched his thigh with a ferocity that shook the SUV and Sara grabbed his wrist and held it in a strong grip as she held him tightly and whispered soothing words in his ear.

He rocked back and forth as the images continued their assault and he tried to push them out of his head. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to focus on Sara's voice as it mingled with Shelling's.

"It's okay, Gil," she whispered in his ear. "You're safe… they can't hurt you."

"They won't leave me alone!" He growled through clenched teeth and pulled a hand away to cover the ear that was furthest from Sara.

She saw him do this and realized he was trying to shut them out but still listen to her. She continued her chattering and by the time Catherine pulled into their driveway Gil had calmed. They helped him up the steps and into the living room where he sat on the couch.

"Can I get you anything?" Sara asked as she sat down beside him.

"My p-pain pills." Gil said as he rubbed his forehead.

Sara went upstairs to get his medication while Catherine sat with him on the couch. When she opened the bottle it seemed to her that there should have been more in the container than what there were but she brushed the feeling off as she reminded herself that they were prescribed for every four to six hours as needed and Gil had probably needed the medication that often.

She took him his medication and after he had downed the pills and water they help him get comfortable on the couch and he draped an arm over his eyes, shutting out the world. Both women stopped in the doorway and looked back at the man on the couch. Each feeling something similar yet so different.

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Gil and Sara sat on their couch that evening and settled in each other's arms. They enjoyed the sounds of the night outside as it sifted through the open living room window and the notes of relaxing music that drifted from the speakers. Hank lay on the other side of Gil, with his head rested lazily on his dad's lap. Gil sat with his arm around Sara's shoulders and his head rested on the top of her head which rested on his chest. The days events ran through their minds and Gil drew a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh.

"I've been thinking about the day you guys found me," Gil said. "I… don't remember a lot of it, or it's blurry at best. I remember… Denalgio… he was going to rape me again, but then I remember hearing Jim shout."

Sara sat up and looked at him.

"Jim said today that he killed Denalgio with one shot," Gil continued, "but I do remember hearing two shots fired."

"I fired the second shot."

"To kill?"

"I… shot off his… erection," Sara said, uncomfortable with the subject, but mostly with the memory. "I don't even remember aiming there. I just shot."

Gil shifted uncomfortably and found himself speechless. He hugged her tighter against himself and nuzzled her hair. "Thank you for saving me," he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

"It's late, we should get some sleep," Gil said. "The trial continues tomorrow at nine, and I want to be there to hear what O'Tool has to say."

Sara sat up straight and a look of apprehension took place on her face. "Are you sure you want to go through that again?"

Gil nodded and a soft smile graced his lips. "Yes. I won't be the one on the stand this time." He caressed the side of her face with his hand. "You don't have to go, honey, I'll understand. But I need to do this. I need some closure on this. I want him to see me when he sits on that stand tomorrow and lies. I want him to see that he hasn't beaten me… not this time."

Sara pressed a soft kiss to his lips which he returned and helped him up the stairs. As they lay in bed Gil rolled over and propped himself up to look down at his love. He kissed her full on the lips before moving down to lift her tank top and kiss her bare belly. He lay his ear against her stomach and listened for the tiny life inside. Sara smiled as she ran her fingers through his soft curls and relished the feel of his lips as he kissed her belly again.

"I promise," he said quietly as he lifted his head and looked down at her stomach. "When you join us in this world, little one, I'll be the best possible father that I can be for you."

He kissed her again as he lay down beside her and as they rolled onto their sides it was Gil who spooned Sara this time as he wrapped a strong, protective arm around her waist and slid his other under her head, hugging her close. She loved the feel of his strong arms around her and he fell asleep with one hand on her stomach and the other on one of her breasts. They slept soundly that night, safely nestled in each other's arms.

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A/N: Did any of you shit bricks? Sorry, that's the kind of week that I've had:) Go ahead, tell me about yours.