OFF

by Saryn

Feedback at: manticone@yahoo.com

Fandom: Crime Scene Investigation

Rating: PG

Summary: Sara ends up in hospital

Notes: this story continues after my previous one, "Growth" which can be read at http://www.grissomandsara.com

The events, which occurred in that story, still apply in this ficlet as well…

She awoke with a start. Bad dreams peppered by the sound of sirens.

*It's just an ambulance...*

Stretching against the headboard of her bed, Sara worked at the cricks in her neck for a moment before throwing back her duvet. She felt feverish, and jittery, and made her way to the kitchen to get some aspirin.

The wood floors of her apartment felt frigid, and she shivered. Grabbing some bottled water from the fridge, she felt chills go up her back as the kitchen was illuminated with the white, cold, sterile glow of the appliance.

The recent nightmares weren't helping, and goosebumps speckled her arms.

The area was momentarily cast in shadow, as the remaining warmth drained from her body.

With a painkiller in hand, she took a swig from her bottle, and felt her mouth pucker as the coating from the pill came off on her tongue.

Her back cramped, as she started to realize what the pain signified. Sighing loudly, she sauntered to the bathroom, and grabbed her hot water bottle.

She hated this aspect of being female. It cut into her life, and robbed of her concentration for 6 days every month. It wasn't even like she was ever going to have children. There was no reason for it…

Returning to bed, she settled in and placed the heat pad over her abdomen. Closing her eyes briefly, she almost swore when the alarm started blaring not five minutes later.

Grumbling, she reached to shut off the horrible noise.

It was 8:30 pm. Shift started in an hour and a half. 10 hours of crime scene investigation, and she was starting to feel very ill.

Just great.

Walking slowly down the hallway, she paused in front of the green painted door with frogs and lizards stenciled on the front. The sacrifices she had made for her niece…there was hardly a request that she denied the teen nowadays. A crayon and pencil door sign alerted her to the fact that this was "Alex's Bedroom". She grinned at the cutesy and flowery writing, and the stickers of frogs that coated everything.

Trance music blared, and she had to pound on the door with her fist before it opened.

A young girl of 15 ½, with mahogany hair greeted her.

"Hey Sara…Hoooverphonic too loud?"

The `aunt' had been dropped now, apparently.

Sara winced as a rack of pain filled her.

"Yeah, Alie…you are going to go deaf, you know that right?", with that, she smiled slightly to let her niece know that she really didn't mind. "Anyway, I have to get ready for work….do you need to use the washroom first? Ohh…I left you some money for pizza, or Chinese food…whatever…and some extra cash for a movie…"

Alex took in her aunts appearance.

"You okay, Sara? You look…like you are getting sick…"

Sara smiled. "Nah…just that bloody female junk we have to deal with every month…sorry about the bad pun."

The girl laughed, and, being decked in yellow pj's with lambs on the front, looked years younger for a moment.

"Well…I'm gonna do my homework now, and I don't need to use the bathroom…and …and I promise. No parties."

Sara grinned, pointed to the huge stuffed beanie baby that she had bought the teen, and shot back, "If I ever see one person walking around this place with a lamp shade on their head, Alie… froglet is MINE".

*****

Her hair was still damp when she entered the break-room. She had almost fallen asleep…or something… in the shower, and had to race just to make it on time.

She was uncharacteristically pale when she arrived. No one knew, but she had always been more sensitive then most…when it came to such issues. It had always been a taxing event for her, but today it seemed worse.

Usually, it wasn't quite so painful.

Sara glanced back at her watch. She had taken three extra strength caplets in two hours. She had, minimally, four more hours to go before she could take any more. She was in pain now, and wanted to go home and curl up in a ball and watch talk shows or soap operas. And she never wanted to watch soaps.

Depositing her water and painkillers into the break room cabinets, she turned quickly to see Nicky approaching.

"Hey Sara…didn't ya get Grissom's page? He wanted us all to go down to the LVPD for briefing…"

Sara stared to respond, when he interrupted.

"Man, Sara…you okay? Ya look a little white there…"

*How do I answer that?*

"Fever or something…" came her brief reply.

He looked incredibly concerned.

"Well…do you think you should be working a case? If your sick, then you should be at home", he reported, patiently.

"Nick. I'm not sick. Not really. Its nothing…"

He gave her a sweet smile, and she felt herself smiling back. Realizing that they would be out on the field, she backtracked to the counter to retrieve her water and medication.

Popping the drugs into her backpack, he quickly moved up to her, and grabbed the last bottle.

"Tylenol 3? Sara…this has codeine in it! Ya sure you're feeling okay?"

She sighed. "Stomach pain", was her reply. He was either going to get it, or he wasn't, but she didn't know what to say without him asking her more questions, and she was too tired to outright lie, and *remember* her lies…

"Stomach pain?", then it hit him. "Oh…", she could see him blush, and tried not to laugh at his expression – a mix of compassion and unease.

He looked flustered – like he wanted to say something, but didn't know how to proceed.

Sara wanted to hug him. *Geez…you get emotional during this time of the month, don't you Sidle?*

Her chuckle took him by surprise. "Nick…don't worry. I'll let you off the hook…just please…umm…if Grissom asks…ummm…" She stopped for a second and thought. "How pale do I look?"

"Like…Geisha-white…"

"Shoot…okay…quickly…help me come up with an excuse. I need you to cover for me just this once…"

"Sara…", his voice held a warning, "is this normal? I mean…for…?"

She ignored his unvoiced question. "Okay…we'll say I had an allergic reaction to penicillin…and that I'm fit to work but still a little…"

Nick look shocked, and half laughed to dispel the tension.

"You can't be serious!!"

"Nick…c'mon…you know how Grissom is…he'll make a big deal out of it. He's not good when he's nervous, and he's not good with people – even me – in situations like this. He will ask me endless questions until I crack…and then…he will be embarrassed, and I'll be…"

He sighed and gave her a pointed look. "Fine…but if you get worse…I'm taking you home…".

She pocketed the bottle of Tylenol that he held out for her, almost teasingly, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks Nicky".

He just stared after her as she walked out of the room…like she'd lost her mind. Sara? Calling him Nicky? Kissing him on the cheek??! Kissing him at all? And while in pain, no less??

He wasn't positive – but he had always though that most women got grouchier and sensitive when they had…well…he didn't even know what to call it…

But then again, this was Sara. She was different in every respect, apparently.

*******

Grissom was in a gruff mood. But all that changed when he saw Sara enter the briefing room. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Apparently, Catherine thought so too…

"Sara, sweetie…you okay? You look a little peaked there…"

Nick, ambling in after her, tried to help.

"She's fine. Allergies…hey Gris…what we got?"

In affirmation of this fact, Sara just nodded her head, and tried to scan the report laying near Grissom's hand.

Gil Grissom had a bulldogs stubbornness though, and Nick's `deflection' hadn't been a rousing success.

"Allergies, huh? Of what exactly?"

Sara scratched her forehead and Nicky sighed.

"Penicillin", came the resounding answer from the pair. Warrick looked up then. This has obviously been scripted.

"Riiiight", came Warrick's taunting reply – which caused Nick to become annoyed.

*Poor Sara…man…you can't even maintain your dignity in this environment!*

"Yes…War'…even *I* have allergies to that dreadful stuff…you want to see my medical file…cause if you don't believe me…we could arrange a viewing!"

Wow. His protectiveness had seemingly come out of nowhere. Catherine intervened, while Grissom looked on with an unreadable expression.

Cath put a steady hand on Nick's shoulder. "Whoa, bud. Calm down. Gris…come on…what do we have? Before we have to collar Nick", she added with a laugh.

Grissom had been watching the exchange, and he looked somewhat anxious…and, almost…mad.

"We have a 419, and a 426…sorry Sara…I don't want you on that… skip it and work the 419 with Nick. Warrick…Cath…you are with me…"

He left quickly. But Catherine noticed that he had been clenching his fists ever since Warrick had made his smart-ass reply.

She inwardly groaned. Grissom was hard to read, and even harder to placate. She hoped she could figure out was wrong.

*****

Nick had gone to get his truck, while Sara wandered off to get a drink of water. She downed two more pills, and then sauntered over to the washroom.

Depositing two quarters into the vendor, she almost swore when the handle jammed.

"Stupid...friggin' machine! Aw…shit!" She pounded her hand against the white metal, and pulled back sharply when she cut her hand on the rim. Small drops of red rolled down her arm and blossomed over her sleeve…engulfing the rim with sanguine fluid.

"Christ!" What a day…At that moment, a toilet flushed, and the cubicle door two rows down from her swung open.

Catherine emerged with a small smile on her face – hearing Sara's outburst.

She walked over to the sink, while Sara stood there uncomfortably holding her bloodied hand in one arm, while the gash dripped on the tiled floors.

Catherine noticed the injury. "Jesus Sara! C'mere…"

Sara stood where she was…

"Do you have…some bandages or something?", asked the brunette, her voice wavering.

Catherine took pity on the young woman standing before her. She looked as white as the floors, and was holding onto her hand so tightly it looked as if she was cutting off the blood flow.

Catherine then understood. She was in physical pain…and not just because she had an injured hand.

"Wash it well…here you go." Trying to alleviate the uncomfortable nature of the situation she handed over a large butterfly bandage from her purse, while Sara looked at her thoughtfully.

She quickly bandaged the cut, and then looked up tentatively…"You wouldn't happen to have a …?"

Catherine cut her to the chase, and handed over two tampons, her smile widening.

"Penicillin allergy, my ass…" Sara broke her stare, and laughed.

Catherine laughed herself, and started to exit. "Oh Sara…it makes sense to keep some stuff in a locker or something. There are only like three females in this entire building…and the guys around here aren't careful to stock up…"

Sara nodded in understanding.

At least Catherine had helped her avoid a potentially embarrassing situation. Well…a MORE embarrassing situation.

*******

Grissoms knuckles were as white as Sara's had been earlier, and Catherine grimaced.

Poor man. He was worried about her. He was also jealous of Nick…not like she would ever get him to cop to it…but she knew him well enough to know that this was the case.

She glanced over at Warrick, who was out like a light. Poor guy hadn't taken a break in two weeks.

Her thoughts returned to Grissom once again, as he leaned down on the horn as a yellow Saturn nearly broadsided them.

"Idiot teenagers!", he grumbled.

"Penny for your thoughts, Gil…"

He looked up at her bemused. "I was just thinking about how idiotic teens can be..."

Catherine sighed dramatically. "C'mon…R…E:…S..A…R…A….", she spelled out in a gesture of humor.

Grissom didn't find the topic humorous, however. "First of all, she's lying to me, and secondly…whatever it is…she feels like she can tell Nick, but NOT me…that's almost worse than the lying…"

Catherine couldn't believe her ears. Did GRISSOM have a fever? His excuse sounded almost as lame as Sara's supposed `penicillin allergy'.

"Confiding about something personal…to Nick, is worse than lying?!", she shook her head, "what's wrong with her talking to Nick?" she added.

"She should be able to trust me…", he replied – almost automatically –in a sotto voice.

Catherine patted his shoulder supportively. "Trust me…the reason she DIDN'T tell you is because she cares way TOO much what you think…WAY too much, if I do say so myself…"

For the first time since they had gotten in the car, the speed had dropped below 80mph.

"You know what this is about? Great!!", he groaned. Catherine was slightly taken aback by how unlike him his replies and behavior had been all morning. He was TOO emotional now, whereas, normally, he wouldn't have been fazed.

He was also relentless. "What is it? What's going on? Is she really sick?"

"No. Its nothing. I shouldn't say anything outright…", at his look of annoyance, she added, "but I hate to see you squirm. Fine Gil…but you better keep your mouth shut…"

He was getting impatient.

"Catherine…", he growled.

"Ugh…you are stubborn. Fine…Sara has her period". She said the last part quietly, glancing over to make sure that Warrick was still asleep, but feeling badly. Sara hadn't wanted Grissom to know…of that she was sure. Nick probably had found out accidentally. Sara was not the type to just hand out that sort of information – not even to another female, apparently.

Poor Sara. As private as she was, the entire night shift was putting the pieces together. If *Warrick* knew too…well…that would just be…

Catherine sighed, temporarily loosing her train of thought.

Grissom was still, obviously, thinking about Catherine's reply. He looked somewhat flustered.

"She's too pale, Cath…"

Catherine sighed. Sara WAS too pale. She wondered if the CSI in question was not actually coming down with the flu. She had seemed to be in pain, as well.

"Yeah….I know Gris…"

******

Her hair was starting to curl. It naturally curled, and she hadn't given herself enough time that evening to blow dry it straight. Wrapping a loose tendril around her finger, she twisted until the blood flow was cut off and the finger went numb.

Pulling her hand away, she realized how quickly the blood had stopped pumping to that part of her hand. Her digit was still a little purple – even 10 seconds later.

It probably wouldn't take that long to die. If you lost enough blood…if you bleed out…death could probably occur within a few minutes.

She shuddered, and felt shivers go up along her spine.

Nick took his eyes off the road for a minute and addressed the silent Sidle.

"You're not cold, are ya Sara?"

She looked up at him. Nicky was much more thoughtful than people gave him credit for, and in this heat, she realized that her shaking was out of place. The truth of the matter was…she did happen to be a little cold.

"Um…yeah…a little. I feel like I've consumed a pitcher of ice water", she added with a small smile, as a new set of shakes assaulted her. "Maybe I *AM* getting sick…"

He looked pensive, and added. "Your stomach…is it still sore?"

Her response was hesitant. "Um…ye-…yes."

Nick Stokes pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, while the other cars and vehicles on the Las Vegas freeway buzzed past them – leaving the night sky temporarily branded with the glow of white and red vehicle head and rear lights.

The sun had set hours ago, but the sky was not pitch black. They had driven past the hectic center of the city, but the lights of the strip made the area around them a deep indigo.

Nick reached forward and flicked on the truck's passenger light. He took a good look at Sara, and let out a shaky breath.

"Sara…you are much paler now. Your lips are a little blue too", he frowned and took her hand gently into his. She started to pull back, as if on instinct, but he reassured her.

"Hold on a sec hun'…I just want to take your pulse", he drawled. He noted how cold and clammy her wrist was beneath his much warmer hand. It worried him. After a minute or two, he looked back at her with a firm and set expression.

"What is it at…Nick?", she asked, her voice sounding nervous.

He looked grim. "I'm taking ya to the hospital. Your pulse is at 49. That's way too slow…"

Amazingly, Sara didn't argue.

*********

Grissom got the page, and ambled back to the parked Tahoe. Here he was – trying to collect evidence from a 426 – as if that wasn't bad enough - when Nick's page had come in.

Addressed as: "IMP.CI" – which, among the group translated to mean "important – call back immediately".

He used the car phone, and got a static filled reply.

"Nick...where are you? What?! Why? Which hospital….yeah….no….no I don't know that either…..shit…Sara knows better than that!…How bad? Okay…I'm going to sign out…hand off to Cath…yeah…no I don't know…how would we have known? Yeah…..I'll be there soon….okay…bye".

He ran back to the taped crime scene border, and motioned for Catherine.

She took in his worried appearance. "What is it Gil?"

He looked angry. "Nick took Sara to the hospital…we don't know what is wrong yet…I'm handing off to you". He winced as he noticed Ecklie and his shift in the near distance.

"Sorry Cath…I know you hate dealing with him at the best of times. I'm…supposedly…listed as Sara's next of kin, so I need to get over there and fill out some forms".

At the female CSI's inquisitive look, he exhaled. "No…don't look at me like that. I didn't know either…but Sara told me once that she didn't really get along with her parents…I still had no idea I was listed as kin though…"

He gave a weak smile, glanced back at Conrad Ecklie, whose bitter voice was surely just as aggravating to his day shift CSI's, and added, "I'll be back when I can…"

Catherine nodded, her features not belying her concern, as Grissom left hurriedly.

*********

Grissom hated hospitals. Ever since he had been seven, and had fallen off a playground structure and had shattered his tibia. The horrible smell of antiseptic, and the perky nurses around every corner with a hypodermic for their bloodletting practices, or a cup to pee in.

That, of course, says nothing about the other indignities that patients have to go through such as the horrible, short, and scratchy hospital gowns, or the endless questions.

He entered the ER, and approached the desk almost cautiously.

A middle-aged woman, with red-rimmed eyes, grouchily acknowledged him.

"Hello. I'm inquiring about a young woman who was just brought in about 20 minutes ago. Name is Sara Sidle…dark brown hair, about 5 foot 9…", he was rambling. He rambled when he was nervous.

"Sir…you don't have to give me a physical description.", she glanced at her admission records.

"Sidle? Yes…she's in exam room 2-A. And you would be?"

Grissom sighed. "I'm her supervisor. I'm listed as next as kin…can I see her?"

"A Mr.…Grissom? Yes, um…you can go in…and then I'll need you to fill out a few forms…"

He sighed once more, and thanked the caffeine-deprived woman in front of him.

*******

She was still clad in her jeans and red shirt. He noticed that Nicky had leant her his A&M Texas sweatshirt, which she had draped around her shoulders – as if she was cold. She was, he noticed, lightly shivering. The cuff of the red cotton sweater was rolled up, and elastic had been fitted around her upper arm.

A male nurse told her to squeeze her palm, and she did so in compliance. A needle – a rather large needle, in Grissoms opinion – was injected into her arm, and Sara looked away quickly.

With a soft knock at the door, he entered. She looked up guiltily…sickly. She looked like she was going to vomit.

"Hey boss…", Nick, who was sitting across from Sara in a padded chair - addressed him politely.

Grissom, however, was transfixed on the process before him. The blood gushed with ease into the vial. It was a startling colour. The nurse commented on this fact.

"Miss? Have you been eating enough? Have you been drinking enough water?"

Grissom intervened, referring to the blood. "What does it mean?" The blood looked black, not dark red or even purple.

Sara remained silent, either ignoring the nurse, or not hearing him.

The nurse, whose name Nick had humorously noted was ALSO Greg, addressed Grissom – concern on his face apparent.

"Well, um…it could mean any number of things, really. It could mean that she is severely dehydrated, or that she is starved for food, or…it could signal anemia, or toxicity. We will have to wait for the results to come back to know for sure…"

He extracted the needle from Sara's arm, and re-swabbed the puncture with polysporn before bandaging it. Nick kindly added, "keep your arm flexed Sara…yeah, just like that…it'll keep the blood from pooling…reduces pain and bruising".

Sara obediently responded by pulling her arm up close to her chest. By this point, however, she looked green.

Greg then asked her to stand. "I'm going to just weigh you now…okay?" Sara appeared to react tentatively, but complied.Greg adjusted a scale, while Grissom took a seat besides Nick, who, upon sitting, gave the older man a grim smile.

"Her pulse was at 49 Gris…why would she let something like that go?", Nick whispered.

Grissom just shook his head, his features marred with fear and anger. Everyone knew that Sara took great liberties with her health, but he had decided that a heart to heart talk between the two of them was now warranted.

Greg's voice cut through his thoughts. "Yeah…you're underweight Miss Sidle." With that, he turned towards Grissom and Nick. "She's at 102…and she should be closer to 140", he added with concern.

Grissom and Nick's faces registered alarm, and Grissom's look became one of incredulity when Sara gave a response that looked suspiciously like a shrug.

The nurse exited the room, and Sara slumped back down onto the examining table. Nick was silent, but Grissom couldn't let the new found knowledge go… "What…are you not eating now Sara?", he asked slowly.

Sara sighed. "I'm not anorexic Grissom…", and set him with a stare.

He was becoming angered, and Nicky looked antsy, almost as if he wanted to leave the room. "Yeah... what about bulimia?! That would explain your dizziness and pallor!", he threw back.

His thoughts now filtered back to the recent case that the night shift had solved, of a model with bulimia. Sara had been, typically, compassionate when she had handled the case, but now his mind was struggling with the concept that Sara herself could have been in the same boat. Moreover, no one even knew.

"God damn it Grissom! I don't have an eating disorder!"

"Then why are you 40 pounds underweight?", he replied hastily. She looked anguished. "I don't know!! I just don't have much of an appetite lately…"

"So you AREN'T eating!"

She looked like she was near tears. "I'm not hungry…no…but I'm not deliberately avoiding food. I haven't felt very well lately…"

Nicky quietly excused himself, not wanting to cause Sara further stress. Grissom turned back to Sara once more, and noticed that she was fiddling with the seam along her jeans.

"Sara", he started slowly, "what is the doctor going to tell us? I'd rather here it from you first…"

She was getting aggravated. "How the hell should I know Grissom!! I don't know what's wrong myself!"

They heard the door reopen, and another man, the doctor – presumably –entered. He addressed Sara, civilly, but tiredly.

"Um…who are you, sir?", he added, upon seeing Grissom hunched nearby in a `borrowed' waiting room chair. Sara softly answered. "A friend. He can stay…" The doctor nodded slightly, and pulled out a form. "Okay….Sidle…Sara Sidle?", to which Sara nodded, "I'm going to ask you some questions… then I want to run some exams, okay?"

He pulled out a form, and ran down the list. Sara became aware of the silence, and wanted him…someone…to speak, and dispel the tension caused by the quietness.

"Okay, Sara…you were brought in with a very slow pulse…low blood pressure. Any dizziness?"

She swallowed, "Some".

"Headaches? Nausea?"

"No to the headaches…but I have been feeling a little sick…"

"Stomach pain?"

"Yes…"

"Have you recently fainted…blacked out?"

She looked like she wanted to avoid the question. She was hedging, and Grissom closed his eyes.

*What was she thinking letting some medical problem go this long?*

"Umm…I felt….off…strange…earlier. Tonight before work I really started to notice it. I think I fainted in the shower…"

The doctor nodded, thoughtful. "Were you tired? How about your sleep habits? Do you get enough sleep?"

Sara's eyes locked with Grissom's for a second. He could have easily answered that, and a wry smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"No. I've not been getting very much sleep. I never get all that much sleep though...."

"What do you average Miss Sidle?"

Sara broke her stare with Grissom. "Umm…3 1/2…4 hours maybe?"

Grissom's smile vanished.

The doctor sighed. It rang out almost harshly, and Sara flinched.

"What about nightmares? Umm…recent depressive symptoms? Anything like that?"

Sara now had a very odd look on her face - a `deer caught in the headlights' expression. Grissom felt his heart begin to race. She was hiding something.

"Um…doctor…I don't believe the problem is my sleeping habits…"

The doctor ignored her, and proceeded to pull out a light. He shone the light into each eye. Satisfied with the results, he jotted something down on Sara's personnel file, and asked, "Okay…I want you to push against my hands…"

She was getting flustered. "Why are we doing a neuro exam?"

"Dizziness…nausea…with the absence of a headache, but accompanied by poor sleep. Fainting. Massive weight loss. I'm trying to rule certain things out…"

Grissom looked disturbed, and the doctor turned to him. "Mr. Grissom? You are her supervisor…have you noticed any recent moodiness? Temperament problems on the job, for example? Is she quick to anger or overly emotional, perhaps?"

Sara had had enough. "I'm in the room, damn it!"

Grissom looked at her, in shock. The doctor proceeded to write down yet another point, which he felt, was pertinent.

After her anger had subsided somewhat, she asked, through clenched teeth. "What about my blood test results?"

"We don't have those back yet…umm…I have to do my rounds. Check back with the ER. I'm going to ask you to stay here, and I want someone from psych to talk to you in a bit…"

Grissom started to rise, and the doctor turned once more to him. "Please make sure that she doesn't leave…"

*********

Grissom had decided to give Sara some space, and had retreated to the hospitals waiting room to find Nick resting on his haunches with his back turned to him. A little boy of about five, with sandy blond hair, and a savagely broken arm, was screaming in the next seat. His arm was swollen horribly, and Gris smiled easily when he saw Nick talking in a soothing tone to the young child.

"Aww man…don't cry. It'll be okay…hey look what I got here…see…look…? See…", lodged somewhere deep in the Texans pocket, he extricated some candy. He handed the little guy a tootsie roll.

"See…now you eat this, and look…oh wow man…we have…what's this…Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! This is a great show man!! You wanna watch it with…?", at the little boys stare, Nick turned to see Grissom gawking at the pair.

Nicky quickly stood, and tried to save face.

Grissom moved up to him. "And where would you have seen the Mutant Teenage Turtles or whatever they are called?"

Some corny 80's cartoon theme song was now blasting over the speakers.

<<…Leonardo…Michelangelo…Donetello…Raphael …>>

"Teenage Mutant NINJA Turtles, Gris…not Mutant Teenage Turtles… and I dunno. Maybe I saw it with my little nephew or something…"

<<Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES…turtles in a half shell…TURTLE POWER!>>

Grissom flopped down in a nearby chair. The child had stopped crying. His swollen eyes now soaked up the cartoon images of karate black belt turtles and a brown rat that was their sensei. Tear marks made two long paths of red down his cheeks, and his little mouth was stuffed with the sweet candy that Nick had given him.

"Great…now the kid is going to be hyper", Grissom commented sarcastically.

"Aw man, have a heart. He was crying…"

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Nick asked, "So…what's going on with Sara?"

Grissom sighed loudly. "I don't know. Neither do the doctors. Her blood test results aren't back yet…and they are having someone come down from psych and talk to her…"

Nick dropped his head down into his lap. "God, Grissom…she'll never put up with that…she…you know Sara…"

At that moment he stopped speaking - dead in his tracks - as he saw none other than Sara herself, donning his A&M Texas sweatshirt no less, exit the emergency room main doors.

"Is that…? No way…what the HELL does she think she's doing?", Nick's voice now held a note of aggravation.

Gil Grissom was up and half way across the waiting room before Nick had come to his senses.

*******

"Sara!", he yelled across the lot. She didn't turn to acknowledge him, nor did she slow her pace.

He jogged up besides her, and physically stopped her by grabbing her arm.

"Let me GO GRISSOM!"

"Your results aren't back, yet! What in God's name do you think your doing, Sara? Do you think we have time to go the hospital again if something IS wrong?!"

She ignored him, and harshly ripped her arm out of his hold. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!!" She looked like she was on the verge of crying, and he didn't want to push her.

"God…Sara…stop! What's going on?!"

"I don't know!", her voice sounded hollow as the first tears fell.

"Sara…", he steadied her gently. "C'mon…let's go back inside…"

"Let me go", she whispered.

"Sara…"

"LET ME GO! I'm going to be sick!"

He released her arm immediately, and she fled over to the walkway near the Oncology entrance. Pushing the hedges out of the way, she vomited between the shrubs.

In the darkness, Grissom stood where he was… He didn't want to overwhelm her, but she was close enough so that he could keep an eye on her.

After the heaving ceased, she dropped to her knees, and refused to turn to him. He saw, barely, her hands wipe her face, and then she paused in her tracks.

"Sara? Are you okay?", he called out.

He started to walk up to her.

"Sara?"

She wasn't answering him, and as he came near her, she got up and started to walk briskly in the other direction.

"Sara stop…"

When she didn't, he pulled her around to face him. She kept her head down, but he gasped anyway.

The entire front of her sweatshirt was covered in droplets of red. Her hands, he could now see, were speckled with blood, and she held onto her stomach.

"Oh my god…hold on…we are going to find out what's going on…"

At her dazed look, he realized that she was probably internally bleeding, and ready to pass out. Grabbing her gently, while trying to avoid putting any pressure on her stomach, he picked her up easily, and almost ran back to the ER.

Nick saw him enter through the glass-automated doors, and froze. In the harsh glare from the ER's halogens, the blood was very clear, and seemed to coat her lips in a ring. It ran down her face, and whenever she took a breath, bubbles of red rose from her mouth.

"What happened Gris??"

"She vomited it", Grissom answered shakily, while trying to steady his breathing. "I think she's hemorrhaging".

Nick screamed for a doctor, while Sara winced.

"Sara, honey…?", Grissom was trying to get her to communicate.

"Stom…ach….hurts", she chocked out.

"You have some internal bleeding…hold on…the doctors are coming", Grissom informed her gently.

*********

Grissom and Nick sat in the waiting room anxiously.

"Guys…what's going on?" Catherine had heard the news, and had clocked out two hours early. At that moment, the automatic doors opened, and a young girl in a jean skirt, fishnet stockings, and a hoodie entered the ER. She had a backpack slung across her chest, and a skateboard in her arms.

"Alie, sweetheart? What are you doing here?", Catherine asked the youngest Sidle member.

"Well, Aunt Sara paged me a few hours ago…I phoned back…got the ER. I got scared…decided I'd come down…"

Grissom looked astonished. "At 6:20…", he looked down at his digital watch, "6:26 in the morning?"

"Yeah…and no way was *I**taking a bus. Do you know the sorts of weirdo's who ride those things at 6:00 in the morning? Anyway…where's aunt Sara? She's okay, right?"

Nick tenderly regarded the girl, and replied. "Umm…Alie…ya hungry?". At her look, he grinned, and added, "C'mon…I'll get ya some breakfast from the cafeteria…I think it opens at 6:30….and I'll tell ya what I know…"

The two friends – a 34 year old male CSI, and a 15 year old High School sophomore – took off for the elevators, leaving Grissom and Catherine starting after them.

"She's just like Sara…", Catherine mused. Gris ignored her comment.

"Catherine…where's Warrick?" Grissom asked in confusion.

She grinned. "In the car, with Lindsey…he's really anxious, but Linds feel asleep…oh for cripes sake Gil, what's going on with Sara?"

Grissom lifted his head to stare at his friend. "She's in surgery…some sort of internal bleeding…we don't know the cause yet…" His eyes were red. And not from lack of sleep either. Yet, with Nick right alongside him the entire night, she doubted that he had shed a tear.

It didn't matter that Sara seemed to be his world…he still wouldn't have cried in front of another living soul.

Grissom added, "She kept saying that her stomach hurt…but I thought…well…you know"

Catherine interceded, "Grissom…we can't blame ourselves. I thought it was…you know…the same thing…"

A doctor - specifically a surgeon – sashayed down the hall to greet them. He pulled at his mask, and gloves, before entering the waiting room.

Catherine looked a little sour when she noticed his blue v-necked operating t was freckled with bloody fluid. Blood. Probably Sara's blood.

"Doctor?", she inquired for the group. Grissom seemed to be emotionally exhausted. "What's the news?"

The doctor gingerly plopped down into a chair, and proceeded to brief them.

"Miss Sidle's bleeding was caused by two things…apparently…" he paused and let that register, "we can't run a barium swallow yet, but we did perform an endoscopy after we had sedated her. We found evidence of a duodenal ulcer. Not new at all, of course. The pain should have signaled that something was wrong for a while now…"

Grissom sighed, and Catherine shot back, "Well…you don't know Sara. She isn't exactly the `health food, run a marathon, get a yearly check up kind of gal'…and we can't exactly be responsible for her every..."

The surgeon put out a hand in a gesture of peace. "Miss…Miss.?"

"Willows", Catherine answered gruffly.

"Miss. Willows…I'm not trying to lay blame. This was up to Miss Sidle herself to check out…although, due to the second cause of the bleeding…I can understand why it stayed under wraps for so long…"

Grissom was concerned. "What second cause?"

The surgeon sighed. "We found evidence of bruising…and bleeding…along the spleen and liver; massive bruising actually, and swelling. The cause is not from infection. In fact, her entire stomach looks as if someone used it as a punching bag. Legs and arms are bruised as well… She's probably been internally bleeding for about…by my estimate… three or four days now. If she didn't eat during that time, it could have prompted the ulcer to…worsen…hence, she hemorrhaged."

The CSI's each took the news differently. Grissom looked pensive, but sad. And Cath looked horrified.

"Someone beat her up?", Catherine sputtered.

"It would look that way…", the doctor closed his eyes, "we treated the ulcer with a combination of electrical stimulation…to aid in natural clotting, and adrenaline injections. Even THAT didn't help all that much, given the profuse bleeding, which is why she required surgery…but we've got the bleeding under wraps now… Umm…she's currently undergoing an infusion, as she lost a lot of blood…and we've hooked up an IV as she was dehydrated."

"Is she awake?"

The group turned to see a tousle haired Warrick, holding tightly onto a slumbering Lindsey Willows.

He very gently passed the sleeping child over to her mother, who took her eagerly.

Taking a seat next to Grissom, who looked positively shot for the week, he reiterated, "Is Sara awake, doc?"

"Well…yes…if you could call it that…"

"Can we see her?" Warrick, yet again.

Catherine and Grissom were quiet, as they dealt with their pain in silence, Warrick Brown had always prided himself on being the "brother Sara never had", along with Nick, of course.

Nicky sometimes opted for the role of the younger, `irritating' brother, while Warrick, who had just recently formed a stronger bond with Sara, assumed the role as protector. Well scratch that – they were both protective of the young female CSI.

**********

The room smelled like floral Lysol spray. It was supposed to hide the smell of antiseptic.

Sara was conked out on pain medication, but had still managed to wrap herself into a ball.

Nicky and Warrick entered with Catherine, and Alex stayed near the door, while Grissom lingered in the receptionist's waiting room – collecting his thoughts.

Nick softly took Sara's small hand into his much larger one. "Hey…there's the woman of the hour."

She gave a small, timid grin.

"Sorry I scared you…I didn't know what was wrong…I'm sorry…"

Warrick seemed annoyed by her apologetic nature. "Damn, Sara girl…I don't want to hear you say `sorry'…you got that?" He looked like he meant it.

Sara closed her eyes. "I was stupid…I shouldn't have ignored it…I was really stupid".

Catherine was upset. Upset enough, that if you didn't know her better – you may have thought she was angry *at* Sara. "What shouldn't you have ignored Sara…the pain or the bruises?"

Sara looked uncomfortable, and Nick tried to take some of the heat off her. "Cath…let's allow Sara some rest. We can talk more `bout that tomorrow. You rest up hun', and will promise to weasel some coffee in for ya…"

Warrick almost smacked Nick. "Nicky, you're a moron man, you know that? She can't have coffee…"

Sara looked confused, and Catherine filled her in. "It seems, that you've neglected a rather pesky ulcer. Duodenal ulcer, by the looks of it…that's what caused the bleeding…although your spleen was pretty swollen, in addition."

"Ulcer?", her voice sounded squeaky. She took a deep breath.

Nick grinned. "Yeah, honey…you are just *SO* easy on yourself, and ya eat properly….give yourself enough time away from work, get enough rest, don't become connected to cases…I mean…can anyone imagine YOU getting an ulcer? It's a marvel of nature…"

Cath laughed at Nick's attempt at sarcasm; or rather, being sardonic. It didn't suit him, and he couldn't seem to pull it off. Warrick and Sara laughed unabashedly at the attempt, too.

Sara then became aware of what was missing from the picture.

"Guys…where's Gris?"

Nick and Catherine shared a look, and Warrick relayed the situation to her.

"He's waiting outside. You rattled him pretty badly Sidle…man…he probably doesn't know whether to hang you…or hug you…"

Alex used that moment to interrupt.

"Nah…anyone who tries to do anything but hug Sara right now has to go through ME."

The comment caused Sara to grin indulgently, while Warrick and Nick burst out laughing.

Alie came up to the side of her aunt's bed, riffled around in her pack, and pulled out her keys. Opening the zipper, she dumped the contents onto the bed.

"Here…I brought you froglet, and these are pop rock candy….cause the food here sucks…"

"And pop rocks are so nutritious…", Nicky mumbled under his breath.

"Oh…and the cell phone, and umm…your pj's. I just had a hunch…and I know how crappy the gowns are in these places".

*********

She returned to work two days later, so disquieted from being away from the job that she had almost signed herself out from the hospital AMA.

Nick picked her up from her apartment, and the two drove in silence to the CSI HQ. She was extremely anxious – mostly because Gris hadn't come to see her in the hospital.

That couldn't have been a good sign.

She wrung her shirt in her hands for the hundredth time that hour, and Nick could actually see abrasion marks on the palms where she had rubbed the skin away.

"Lay off there Sara…your hands are going to be as raw as your tummy…"

She glanced up at him, worry lines gracing her forehead.

"He's *really* mad, Nick…"

"Nah…he was REALLY scared. And he may be ticked that it got out of hand…but he's just concerned for ya, Sara…don't worry…he's not good with people, and he probably didn't know how to keep his emotions in check…"

She looked up, startled at the revelation.

"He's not used to…feeling like you do…'"

Sara almost chocked on the gulp of Evian water that she had been downing at that moment.

*********

They had planned to meet in Brass' office for their briefing. Even Greg had loitered around the entrance, and gave a half yelp in excitement when he saw Sara approach.

The attention made her feel worse – embarrassed by actions that lead to a potentially fatal situation, which in turn, lead to everyone's concern and well wishes.

"Sara…hey girl…you look great! And looked what I smuggled out of the office for you… `what is it? you ask?'…none other than my premium Blue Hawaiian coffee mix! A get well gift…"

He gave her a "Sara-Sanders" grin, and held out the package, wrapped in a green bow.

Greg was wearing a particularly lurid, if not hideous, Hawaiian shirt to match his coffee offering of choice. It had bright neon green parakeets emblazoned on the front - air brushed in some god-awful pattern.

Warrick chuckled with glee at his attempt to bring a smile to Sara's face.

"Sorry man", he patted the lab tech's shoulder in mock sympathy, "but she has an ulcer. Ergo, she can't drink your `premium' coffee…tough break".

Sara glowered at Warrick, and cut in, "Greg…thanks…I'll sure drink it when I'm able…thanks again."

Wow – two `thanks' in one sentence. And a genuine smile. An all time Sidle record.

Greg flashed her another grin, and almost skipped like Shirley Temple back to the lab.

Nick, upon seeing the display, pondered aloud, "What has that boy been snorting?"

Warrick laughed, and motioned to Sara's tenderly wrapped present. "That Blue Hawaiian crap probably altered his brain chemistry…"

Nick laughed aloud at Warrick Brown's suggestion. "Yeah…and as a chemist…he should know better!"

*********

Gil Grissom had finally cracked. He had suffered a mental breakdown. Or perhaps he had gone insane –which, of course, was sort of linked to options 1 and 2.

Catherine Willows was seriously considering all of these possibilities, considering how he had behaved following the de-briefing that morning.

He had acted – startlingly – normal. And, in light of what had just happened to Sara – that was an odd reaction.

After he had handed out assignments, he had turned to Sara, and asked her to stay behind. The others took a clue, and scrambled out of the office quicker than you could say `suspension.'

*******

"Take a seat…"

She took a seat…without comment. Her heart was racing.

*Why are you so scared? This is Gris…Grissom…a man you've known for 11 years. A man who you trust implicitly…one that you'd sacrifice your own life for. Why are you shaking?!!*

"We need to talk, Sara".

Her throat felt tight. She had talked a lot lately. She had talked to Nick for an hour and a half on the phone just the night before, and Catherine had insisted that she stay with her family while she recuperated. She hadn't argued. She had been too nervous.

"What about?"

He looked exasperated.

"I want to know how I should go forward in your case, and what I can tell Brass to put in his APB…"

She looked up sharply. How had they jumped to discussing cases? A case, scarily enough, about her?

"Case?", she asked nervously.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush on this Sara. Yes…you almost bleed to death from an ulcer. But that doesn't mean that we can ignore the fact that someone practically tore your spleen open in a fit of rage…"

"Grissom…", she wanted to get off this subject very quickly.

"Do you have an answer for me? God damn it Sara! You are a CSI…what were you thinking not going to the authorities…the hospital…immediately?"

"Stop it! Please!"

"What happened? Were you robbed coming home from the store? Did someone jump you while you exited your vehicle? WHAT!? Do you even have a description of the assailant?!!"

She looked white again -this time from fear. "The guy was drunk, Gris…", she started slowly.

"I don't care if he was brain damaged! No one attacks my CSI and gets away with it!"

*His CSI? Did he just say I was his?*

"Grissom…please…I don't want to report it…"

"What the hell do you mean you don't want to report it?! You know what…forget it Sara…in two minutes I'm going to go forward on this case by myself…"

"Grissom…stop…I know this person…"

His face dropped as he removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with his hands. "You what?", he sounded incredulous.

Sara took a deep breath. "Um…I have a cousin, Gris…who has some problems. He's only 22…a junior in college. He was having some problems with alcohol…and he was expelled from his dorm for causing…some disturbances. He needed a place to stay…so I told him he could crash in Alie's room for a few days. Alie was away on her band trip…to the Mall of America, so I couldn't say no…"

"What?", he looked shocked.

"Yeah…so…", she rambled on.

Grissom didn't say anything for a long time. "First your father…now your cousin…is there anyone in your family you can trust?", he asked softly.

She looked down quickly. "It wasn't like that with my Dad."

Grissom looked up immediately. "I was there Sara…when you went to get Alex. I know what I saw…it must have been worse when you were younger."

She shrugged noncommittally, "Well…I told Daniel he's got to get help…or he'd wind up back in jail. And he wouldn't have been there long…I wouldn't let him stay with Allie in the house… He left five days ago Grissom, just before Alex got back…and, as far as I know, he hasn't ever done anything like this before…he's stolen and stuff…but never attacked anyone".

"Yeah…he only attacked a young single female, who he knew wouldn't fight back…because *you* knew him…I wonder how drunk he must have been when he had his tantrum. Obviously not THAT drunk, if he reasoned it through…".

Sara's eyes were blazing.

"I hate this Sara…all these people keep hurting you…and you…you let them get away with it! Do you think this is your lot in life? That you can't do anything about it?"

"He's family Grissom!"

"He's a blood relation! He isn't your family! People who love one another don't hurt each another like that! When you love someone…"his voice cracked, and he took a breath.

He was too close to her all of a sudden. She could smell his aftershave; the aftershave that he `didn't wear', supposedly, because it interfered with cases.

Today it was Aspen.

She backed up quickly, and he took another step towards her. He didn't even realize how flustered she must have been.

"I have…have to get some water. I'm sorry…", she said tremulously.

*********
She ran to the locker room, and almost burst into tears.

Why couldn't Grissom have left it alone?

She needed to think…she needed to get away. Her breath was coming in short bursts, and she clenched her fists.

*Oh god…no…not now…*

The last time she had a panic attack, it had been disastrous. It had occurred while she worked as a CSI out in San Francisco. Her supervisor…her friends… had found out when she had panicked in the midst of questioning a serial rapist.

She had been relatively okay one minute, and the next; she had fled the interrogation room and had been violently sick.

It was an event that had caused her to hightail it out of the San Fran offices, and to take up Grissom's offer in Las Vegas.

Looking around quickly, she realized that there was no exit from the locker room – save for the halls. EVERYONE would see then. No – she would have to ride it out in here.

She felt the panic well up in her quickly, and knew she had to act this minute, or not at all.

Locking the door, the retreated back to the lockers and sank down to her knees. Hopefully no one would come sauntering by, in the meantime.

********
Greg Sanders had left his Hawaiian Blue coffee mix in his locker. It wasn't break, but he was getting a caffeine withdrawal headache.

Trudging along to the locker room, he turned the handle, only to find out that someone had locked it.

*What the heck?*

A smile played upon his features, when he recalled the skeleton key that he had swiped from the janitor. Following Grissom's lecture about not being productive, he decided to `exchange' his multiple keys for a `one size fits all' variety.

Of course, the janitor wouldn't be able to clean certain rooms until he `found' his missing key, but Greg HAD become more efficient. Moreover, Grissom never gripped to the janitor. He only ripped poor Greggo to pieces EVERYTIME they came into contact with one another.

He kissed his gold metal beauty, and plunged it into the keyhole.

As soon as the door opened, he could sense that something was wrong.

When he saw Sara crumpled on the floor in a ball, he slammed the door shut, and swiftly locked it yet again.

"Sara? Sara! You okay…?", he tried to keep his voice down – not wanting to alert anyone else.

*Obviously not, you stupid-ass Greg! Does she look okay?*

She seemed to be hyperventilating, and he ran to his locker and searched until he found his wrapped `midnight' snack. He dropped all of the contents out into his locker, and rushed forward to his friend with the empty bag.

Handing it to her, he spoke calmly. "Sara…take this…here…"

She took it from him, and tried to slow her breathing.

Crouching down alongside her, he tried to calm her, by speaking reassuringly. He took her hand, and held it…rubbing the front with his thumb soothingly.

"Your going to be okay…just inhale and exhale to my count…10…9…8…7…"

Sara had recovered a bit, and managed to cough out, "It's not hyp…hyp..notism that…I need."

Greg laughed, and continued counting. "Okay…take a breath in. Hold it…that's good…You are going to be okay…you know that, right? Your not dying…although I know it feels like it…"

Sara nodded, her eyes shut tight.

"Just hold my hand…and imagine…being with me on a tropical Island drinking Hawaiian Blue…that's gotta make you feel better…"

Oh…he was a riot, but – even in her state –she could appreciate his humor.

"Just listen to my words. The attack will pass. It's just like an allergy. It gets rough for a bit…then it goes away. I think the worst is over…"

Her breathing was starting to regulate.

"Has this happened before?"

Another nod of the head was seen.

"Okay…just calm down a bit more…that's it…you are getting some colour into your cheeks now. Good…

After a few minutes, the shaking had passed, but she remained quiet…embarrassed.

"I'm not going to say anything Sara. God knows I've had problems with that…and not just because I get ripped to shreds by Grissom everyday…"

She found that comment amusing, and smiled.

"You too, huh? What did Grissom do to set this off?", he asked her with a laugh.

"Nothing…", she wheezed.

Greg whistled. "Ooh boy…that's a lie Sidle, and you know it. Why don't you come with me – your ole' pal Greggo…to Benito's tonight, and tell me all about it. Plus, you still owe me that dinner…"

Sara glanced up at him, greatly appreciative, and grinned.

"It's a…"

"Date?", he asked hopefully.

"Supper…a supper plan…and just so you don't get the wrong idea…I think I'll have Alex act as a chaperon.."

She felt her heart rate normalize, and realized that she would get over this hurdle. Yet, unlike all the others, she wouldn't do it alone this time.

Whether it was Grissom's stubbornness which caused her to face realties and truths that she wanted to ignore, Warrick and Nick's protectiveness, Alex's sweet gestures and supportiveness, the solidarity that she shared with Cath…or even the humorous ally that she had in Greg…she would get through it with the help of friends.

She didn't feel quite so `off' anymore. She felt drained, and tired from the emotional revelations and stresses of the week.

But she felt, ultimately, safe. It was a feeling Sara Sidle had not felt all that much in her 32 years on Earth.

Greg's kind voice cut through the fog of her thoughts.

"So, should we get back to work?"

She laughed, and exited the locker room with him.

"Yeah…we should get back to living, Greg…"

~Fini~