Written for a CSI Project, which is a year round series of projects run by Lalenna, if you want to know more about it, PM me and I'll tell you what it is.
Based off the events in 'Play With Fire.' Sorry for any weirdness or mistakes, I had issues while writing this, including being sick (which thankfully gave me the inspiration to finish it).
Something You Know
"Amor non discitur, amor cognoscitur, sed id non animadvertis donec amorem invenis." – Love is not something you learn, love is something you know, but do not realise until you find it.
The world was a murky red shade, mixed with lines and dots of dull white. There was a soft beeping somewhere nearby. The air felt cool and dry, and it carried the smell of antiseptics. Opening his eyes slowly, the softly lit view of his hospital room came into view. He tried to move, but let out a groan of pain and stopped.
Several types of pain flowed through his body as he tried to move. Dull, throbbing pain was in his head and limbs. Sharp, stabbing pain came from his cuts as they opened due to his movements. In addition, a warm, itchy pain came from around the cuts on his face.
He ignored the pains, and reached an arm over to the bedside table where a cup of water had been set for him. He took a few sips before painfully returning the cup to the table.
He breathed slowly and tiredly. The drugs that he was on weren't as strong as they could have been, but they were enough to make him very exhausted. His emotions were also causing him to be weary. Catherine had come several hours earlier to tell him that she was responsible for the lab explosion. He had forgiven her of course, because it was an accident, and anyone could have made the same mistake. He was upset that she was being forced to take time off without pay as punishment. He was glad that he was alive. He was scared that he might be injured again at work.
He heard a soft sound at the door, and turned to see who was there. He saw Sara standing there, leaning gently against the wall. He noticed the bandage that was wrapped around her hand, and a dim memory came to Greg's mind. He remembered that she had been in the hall when the lab exploded.
"Hey," she said softly. "I… how are you?"
He smiled a little. "Never better," he joked, exhaustion showing in his voice. More seriously, he answered, "I'm in pain, but I'm alive." He looked at the hand she was cradling. "How are you?"
One of the corners of her mouth raised into a smile at his response. "I'm ok." She sunk into a seat beside his bed. "I'm on leave for the next few days, until my hand heals a little."
"So the team has lost you and Cath for awhile then. What'll they do without you two?"
"Be hopelessly lost," she replied with a grin. Then she added thoughtfully, "They're going to miss you too."
"Maybe they'll appreciate me even more when I come back."
"I'm sure they will."
They fell into silence for a while, not certain of what to say to one another, and quickly becoming absorbed into their own thoughts. To some extent, they were both in shock from the events of the previous days. While Sara's mind wandered to her own dark and distant thoughts, Greg's mind sought relief from the constant replay of what he remembered of the explosion. They both shivered.
She looked over at him. "Do you know when they're planning on releasing you?"
It took a moment for what she said to register in his mind. "They said it depends on how well I'm doing, but they don't expect me to be here for more than a couple days."
She nodded slowly. "Then we probably won't have to miss you for very long at work."
He smiled a little. "That's good, because I wouldn't want Hodges trying to take over for me."
She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think he could if he tried."
"How's the clean up going?"
An involuntary shiver went down her spine as the memory of glass exploding around her came unbidden to her mind. "It's going all right. The glass and everything was cleaned up. They're going to fix the walls and everything structural later this week. They've ordered new equipment that's supposed to come in the next few weeks. Until the equipment comes, we're shipping evidence we can't process out."
He nodded grimly and slowly. Silence fell again for a while. "Are you scared," he asked quietly.
She didn't want to answer truthfully, because she never wanted to admit fear. Yet she couldn't lie to him. He was hurt, and although she didn't admit it to herself yet, she cared for him. "Yes," she whispered, her eyes on her bandaged hand.
"So am I," he admitted softly. She turned to him, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. She slipped her uninjured hand into his, and gently each gave the other's hand a squeeze. Small smiles flickered across their lips; they weren't alone in their fearful memories.
Time passed swiftly, as it usually does, and they were soon back at work. Slowly their physical injuries were healing, but the emotional and psychological wounds were deeper than the physical ones. Yet they were there for one another, dining together, watching movies, being friends. They grew closer every day, and the affection that they felt for one another grew as well, though they wouldn't admit it to themselves.
As their affections grew, they noticed one another more, understanding each other and seeing one another's pains. She would see his hands shake at times, when he was processing evidence or reading the results of tests. He would see her shiver and hold her wrist as she walked through the hallway beside the lab. They would talk on the phone for hours about their problems, or just listen to one another's breathing when they needed to know they weren't alone.
Sometimes as they watched the television or sat together, he held her hand, running a finger gently over her scar. Yet their outward affections to one another went this far and no further for some time.
It was a relatively cool week in early autumn when Sara didn't show up for work for several days in a row. It was during the days that she was absent that Greg realized how much he missed Sara. Upon learning that she was ill, Greg took it upon himself to see that she was well taken care of. If he had learned anything about her over the past months, it was that she didn't take very good care of herself, and that she didn't keep much food in her house.
He held two plastic grocery bags in one hand as he knocked on Sara's door with his free hand. He received no answer. Knowing that she most likely wouldn't be out of her apartment if she was too sick to come into work, he waited a minute before knocking again. When he received no answer the second time, he started to walk away, disappointment showing on his face. However, he turned back when he heard her door open.
He saw her leaning against her doorframe, holding the door close to her with her hand. She wore somewhat dirty, loose fitting clothes. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and she looked exhausted. It was in that moment, feeling a surge of joy as he saw her, that he knew he loved her. "Sara," he beamed as he walked swiftly back to her. "I heard that you were sick."
A small smile played on her lips. "So you decided to bring me food," she rasped, her voice nearly inaudible.
A slight tinge of pink showed on his face, and he spoke quickly as a result. "I know you don't keep enough food here as it is and that you'd be at work if you weren't really sick. So since I figured that you're too sick to work you'd probably not feel well enough to get food either."
"You're right," she spoke softly, smiling a little more than before.
He looked at her with sympathy in his eyes. "You sound awful."
"I know," she replied as she let him in. "But at least the medication I'm taking is helping."
Shortly after he entered her apartment, which looked like a whirlwind had gone through it, he set to his self-appointed job of taking care of Sara. He made her soup and a toasted-cheese sandwich. Then he cleaned up the living room and kitchen of her apartment while she ate.
She watched him while he cleaned for her, something she insisted that he didn't have to do. She gave up protesting when her voice gave out. Since her protests were useless, she resigned herself to eating and watching him. It was in watching him and thinking of all he was doing for her that she realized how much he cared for her. In thinking about how much he cared for her, she realized how much she cared for him.
After she was done eating and he was done cleaning, he spent time trying to entertain her. First, he tried holding a conversation with her, which failed miserably because she had almost no voice. So after a couple more failed attempts to entertain her in other ways, all of which she found to be very cute, they watched TV.
Several hours later, after they ate a meal together, Greg had to leave. They walked to the door and stood there for a moment, looking at one another. Both of them were smiling.
"Thank you for helping me," she said, her voice a little better than it had been earlier.
"I do what I can," he replied with a grin. "Well, I have to go."
She nodded reluctantly; she didn't want him to go. Greg didn't want to leave. They hugged tightly to say goodbye, but when they finished neither let go. There was a sense of longing in both of their gazes, recognizable to both of them. A moment later, Greg kissed her softly on the lips. When he pulled back, he was quickly disheartened by the fact that her face was wrinkled with displeasure.
"Greg," she spoke quickly, not wanting him to be upset. "I'm sick." He laughed a little at that, and she smiled. "And I don't want you to get sick." She paused a moment, and a wicked grin spread across her face. "When I'm better…"
When she didn't say anymore he kissed her on the forehead. "I'll hold you to it."
Sara returned to work by the end of the week, but her cough didn't go away for another week. However, she kept a rather busy schedule after she got better, and always came to the lab with someone else, never alone. He could tell from her playful smile and excuses that she was teasing him. He knew that she wanted to kiss him just as much as he wanted to kiss her, but she was also enjoying playing a little game first. So he reacted the same way that she did, playing like he was just as busy as she was, and that he just didn't have time to meet up with her.
Finally, two weeks after her cold had passed, their little game came to an end. She came into the lab to collect results, alone.
"We haven't seen one another outside of work for awhile," he said, an elusive smile playing on his lips.
"I've been busy, and you said that you were too," she rebutted, a similar smile playing on her lips.
"True." He paused for a moment, not having a good comeback right then. "The results should print out soon."
"Good," she responded evenly. It didn't escape her notice that the space between them was closing slowly.
"You know, there's something I've been thinking about for awhile…"
There were only a couple inches separating them now, and their breathing had grown shallower. "What were you thinking about," she breathed in a low voice, her eyes looking to his lips.
"This," he whispered, a moment before his lips caught hers. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and he felt her arms slide around him shortly thereafter. As their kiss grew deeper, they both shivered slightly. A shiver of pleasure instead of the shivers of fear that they had grown so accustomed to over the months. They smiled against one another's lips as their kiss ended.
"I love you," he whispered. "I just didn't know until you were sick."
She laughed lightly. "That's when I knew too. I love you Greg."
They kissed again, enjoy the shivers of delight that spread through them as they kissed. It was exactly seven months after the lab explosion. From that day forward, neither of them felt fear when walking though the lab.
The End
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Oh, and to anyone who reads my work regularly, I'm hiatused for awhile, read my profile if you want more info.