Bedside Stories Chapter 1
A/N: We own nothing, not CSI, not these characters. Just providing a little bit of fluff and fun for our favorite CSIs.
It was his hands that told her he was with her. She felt his hand covering her own amid everything else that was going on. Her brain had long ago shut down any cognizant thoughts. The heat, the sun, the dust, the sand was never-ending. Then it was gone. Darkness had overtaken her until she knew his hand was touching hers. The air was cooler now, forced into her lungs. His hand was on hers.
He said her name "Sara." Another voice repeated it. She heard her age given.
She managed to open her eyes. Sandpaper grated against her lids. Intense pain covered her body, more than she had ever known before. Noise, so much noise after hours of hearing nothing but wind made her head hurt. His hand was on hers.
Her eyes tried to focus. She knew he was with her. Her eyes found white letters and she tried to smile through parched lips. He found her. He held her hand. She closed her eyes.
She heard his voice saying she had no allergies, she was not pregnant, he was her power of attorney and health surrogate, he could sign papers. Each time her eyes opened, he was there, holding her hand.
She coughed as she tried to wake up. Her eyes opened to cool white. Her arms would not move. His hand was on hers.
"Hey," his voice. The whiteness left her eyes as he lifted a white cloth away.
"Hey," her own voice croaked a raspy word. Her eyes met his. She struggled against pain and restraints on her shoulder and both arms.
His hand was on her face. "Your arm is fractured, in a temporary splint. An IV is in your other arm." She heard ice rattle in a cup. "Open you mouth."
Her lips felt like airport tarmac in July. She remembered the dusty, dry sand and, before that, the gritty water. She had been under a car and walked in the desert. She blinked her eyes trying to clear up the blurry image of his face; it was sunburned, his eyes bloodshot.
He spooned ice chips into her mouth, so cold her lip trembled. She tried not to shiver, but she must have because he pulled a blanket to her chin.
She wanted to say something, how lost she had been, how desperately she ran for life, how the thought of him gave her the drive to live. All she got out was his name. "Gil."
His voice was near her ear. "You're fine. You will be fine. Just rest. I'm not leaving. I'll be here." She knew his hand was wrapped around her fingers.
Her eyes closed and she slipped into a medicated sleep of dreams soon forgotten. He never left the room, moving from bedside chair to a small sofa in the corner and back again, afraid she would wake and find no one beside her.
The nurse woke her, cool fingers on her wrist. He was asleep, one arm kinked behind his head, the other across her chest, his hand on her chin. The nurse smiled and made no noise as she left the room.
Sheets crinkling as she shifted her feet was enough to open his eyes. His hand moved her hair away from her face. He brought a cup with a straw to her lips.
"Apple juice. Try just a sip."
She nodded and swallowed. "Thanks." It hurt to talk.
She watched him smile and saw the worry in his eyes. She tried to pull her hand up to touch his face but neither hand would follow her wish.
"The IV is still in. This arm is hooked up to some kind of monitor board. You have a splint on your other arm." He spoke in a quiet soft whisper. He held up two fingers. "You've been here nearly two days. You're going to be fine."
She struggled to lift her head. He brought the straw back to her lips. The wetness helped her dry mouth.
He put the cup on the table and brought something back in his hand. "They gave me this for your lips," he said as he used his finger to spread some substance on her mouth. She tried to smile which caused him to smile. Her face felt like it was covered with a stiff mask.
