A/N: Hey guys. Here's another chappy :) I'm quite enjoying this, when my brain decides to work that is. I'm trying a new format, past and present so I hope you like the way I'm going to write this. I thought it might mix things up a little.

Thank you for the thoughts and reviews and as always, to calim for the great beta and suggestions.

On we go…. Woof!

Chapter 1

As Grissom settled on the sofa, Sara flicked on the TV then sat on the arm next to him. Leaning in, she gave Buddy a stroke as the dog took his position back at Grissom's feet.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked lovingly.

Slowly, his attention turned toward her. "Hands are a little sore," he said quietly.

Gently grasping his shoulder, Sara gently rubbed. "Okay," she said softly, happy he was telling her that. "I'll get you some medication and then I can take your braces off for a little while if you want." He nodded and she smiled. "Anything else you need?"

Before Grissom could answer, Buddy suddenly sat up and reached out a paw to her before wagging his tail.

Sara's eyes flicked to the clock and she snickered. "One minute past feeding time and you're already complaining." The German Shepard let out a single bark and continued to wag his tail. "Fine," Sara conceded holding up a hand. "I will feed you in a few minutes, okay?" One more bark came before the dog decided to lie back down.

Looking back at her husband, Sara dropped her hand to his thigh. "So, anything else you need? Your leg feeling okay?"

Since they'd returned home, he'd been having some pain in his leg and the weather getting colder didn't help. The pain surfaced more at night which was another reason Sara had started to dread the end of the day. Their nights were no longer filled with joy and passion but consumed with nightmares, both physical and mental. The sedatives he'd been prescribed may put him to sleep but did nothing to stop the bad dreams.

Most nights he'd have nightmares. Since that first night….

5 weeks, 6 days, and 23 hours earlier – Hospital Room

Sara bit down on her fingernail, watching the doctor and nurses around her husband. Thankfully, she'd managed to get him off the floor and back into bed but, considering his current mental state, he'd been given a sedative to keep him there. Andrew had already inspected his leg and it had been redressed. Now he was looking over his hands. Placing the left hand down, he chatted with the nurses before heading for Sara.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Folding her arms, Sara shrugged. "It's not really about me right now, is it?"

"It's about both of you," Andrew argued. "And right now you need to get some rest because you look exhausted."

She sighed. "Easier said than done."

"Try," Andrew pleaded.

Swallowing, Sara looked back at the bed. "How long do you think he'll be out for?"

"At the moment I'm not sure. Considering his current brain pattern, it could knock any predictions out the window." He paused. "But I'd give it at least a few hours."

The uncertainly brewing through Sara settled in her stomach like a dead weight. "And what about his injuries? His hands? His leg?

"We'll need to do an MRI on his hands tomorrow and assess him then," he replied. "As for his leg, we need to ensure he keeps weight off it. Getting out of bed didn't do him any good."

Sara hugged herself a little tighter. "He's terrified. I don't even think he knows what he's doing."

Andrew nodded with agreement. "He'll need some time to adapt to everything that's happened all that he's remembered."

"Adapt? That's a novel way of putting it," she retorted. "All of his recovery, all the hard work." She shook her head. "It's been destroyed."

"I know," Andrew agreed softly. "But you've been strong before so you can be strong again. Hang in there, okay?"

What choice did she have? She wasn't about to say no was she?

Reaching out, he gently squeezed her shoulder. "Get some sleep. I promise he's being well looked after."

Not thinking she'd be able to sleep, Sara settled into a chair by his bedside and was surprised when his loud cry startled her awake sometime later. Leaping out of her chair, she was by her husband's side hearing his panting breaths and seeing his panicked features. Sweat dripped down his cheeks and his open eyes spiralled about as if stuck in a whirlpool.

"I'm here," she quickly reassured, reaching a hand to his cheek. His fearful eyes shot to hers as she carefully sat on the bed. "Relax, baby, relax. You're safe."

"He…he…was here," he stammered, his eyes darting around again. "He…he…he…. wouldn't stop hit…hit…hitting me."

The tightness in her chest increased at his words. Carefully, she edged closer to him then lay back, guiding him to rest upon her. Thankfully, he did, flopping his head onto her bosom. She could feel him tremble and worked her arms around him, holding him close.

"I swear you're safe," she whispered. "I swear."

Present Day

"My leg's okay," Grissom replied. "At least at the moment."

"Okay," she said, getting up. "Be back in a second."

True to her word, Sara collected his medication along with some water and was back to him within a minute. Sitting beside him, she placed the water down then cracked the top off the pill bottle, tipping two pills into her hand.

"I want to try and hold the water."

Surprised at his words, Sara looked at her husband, suddenly feeling very nervous. Yes, while in therapy he'd followed instructions and had been able to move his right hand but had made no attempt to do anything outside of treatment. His enthusiasm was far less this time than previously.

"Gil," she drew out with a hint of caution, "I…um…"

Sara truly hesitated. It had been so hard to find any form of happiness within her husband since everything had gone to shit so the last thing she wanted to do was say no to one of the few things he'd asked for. But, being realistic, she knew he'd not be able to hold the glass. Did she say no or let him fail? Which would hurt his feelings more she didn't know.

Sighing, he turned his attention toward the TV. "It's fine," he said quietly. "Forget it."

After a few seconds of staring at the ball game, he felt a soft pressure on his arm and returned his attention to his wife.

"Please don't be angry with me."

"I'm not," he denied calmly.

Although she could push the conversation she didn't because that wouldn't achieve anything and was glad when he opened his mouth. Inwardly sighing, she dropped the pills on his tongue and reached for the water. She lowered the glass when he let go of the straw.

"Would you like anything special for dinner?" she asked although when she usually asked that question he'd either shrug or say he didn't mind.

"Chilli," he replied.

Sara blinked. She'd not expected an answer. It made her smile. "Okay," she agreed happily as she rubbed his knee. "With rice?"

After he nodded, Sara's smile broadened. "I'll get on it when I've fed the monster."

Buddy lifted his head as she got up and she looked down at him. Laughing, she leaned in and kissed Grissom on the cheek, a warmth filling her heart when he actually smiled.

"Call if you need anything." Grissom nodded again. "Come on then," she encouraged the dog, slapping her thigh.

Buddy hastily followed Sara into the kitchen waiting impatiently for her to fill his bowl. As soon as she put it down on the floor, he was all over it making her smile. They'd had him for just over a week and he'd been a Godsend of sorts. Not only did he give Grissom companionship and comfort but afforded her a bit of a respite from continually having to watch him.

A part of her had been nervous about getting a dog because Grissom had become so despondent in the hospital and nothing worked to pull him out of it. But everything changed the night he'd had a seizure in his sleep and Sara began to doubt her own ability to take care of him.

After a heart-to-heart with one of the nurses, the idea of getting a seizure dog found its way back into the conversation. They helped her get in touch with the Seizure Foundation and one of their staff came to meet with her and Donald at the hospital. That meeting had blown her away.

She'd only thought dogs alerted the person that a seizure was coming then notified someone in the house but there was so much more. They were trained to fetch a telephone, alert device or medication, even open a door or turn on a light. If their person wandered off or fell, they would protect them by remaining close to prevent injuries. They could also sound an alert with an emergency response system. Lately, she hadn't thought there would be a time where Grissom could be left alone but now the possibility may be within reach with this kind of help.

Grissom's case was strong for assistance and after a lengthy conversation it was agreed that when he was discharged, a home visit would be organized along with an appropriate canine. If that went well then, the instructor would spend a further 3 days with them to ensure dog and client were suitable for each other and then the dog would belong to them.

Fearful of an instant rejection given her husband's depressed state, Sara took it upon herself not to tell him about the visit until that knock came to the door. Even then all she did was open the door and let the trainer and his German Shepherd walk into their living room then held her breath. First, Grissom stared at them then he frowned as the dog moved closer and sat right in front of him. A small smile curled his mouth when a paw touched his knee soon followed by something that had been missing in recent weeks – a sparkle in his eyes.

Since that day, his attitude had gotten a little better, too. He began to interact with Buddy – talking to him and brushing his hand over his fur. If he got frustrated, Buddy would be there immediately with a soft paw to the knee, a quiet whine or a nose pushing into his master's legs. It worked every time and Sara appreciated the soothing effect he had upon her husband.

Donald had introduced an additional medication, Keppra, administered via an auto injector. Should Buddy alert them to an impending seizure, the medication would be instantly given. Sara never went anywhere without it and always made sure that Buddy knew where it was so he could deliver it to Grissom, hopefully, in time for him to administer it himself. It wasn't 100% guaranteed to work but there was a 7/10 chance it would.

He hadn't had a seizure since he'd been out of the hospital or any signs of one so they had yet to either use the new medication or see Buddy in pre-seizure action. Sara lived in the real world though and, most of the time, on a knife's edge. One way or another, she knew it would happen again. And it could be any time or day.

Once Buddy had finished eating he immediately returned to Grissom, something which Sara always smiled at. She didn't have to take him or ask, he'd go back on his own and retake his place on the carpet.

In all honesty, Buddy truly amazed her. She'd never come across anything like him and was so very thankful Grissom had accepted him. Both of them now had the chance to love him as much as they'd loved Hank.

Preparing dinner, her mind turned to Grissom's appointment with his new psychologist the next day. She hoped this one went better than the last one. Set the day after he'd gotten out of the hospital, Brass had driven them to the local clinic but Grissom had become agitated and refused to get out of the car. Fearful he would end up having a seizure, Sara took his shaking form into her arms and told Brass to take them home. When they arrived, it had taken her almost 30 minutes to get him out of the car then into bed where he spent the rest of the day in silence. That had been one of their worse days so far.

Therapy was something neither of them had been a fan of. Sara remembered her time having to see the department counsellor after her DUI and that was difficult enough. Grissom generally steered clear of having to open up to anyone in the profession. Christ, how many years had it taken them to open up to each other?

But, for the first time ever, he needed help. Proper help. And it took a lot for her to admit that the person to help him wasn't her. She'd tried and she would keep trying but, if he refused to get outside help again, Sara feared he would fall into a black hole and might never get out of. A night of prayer may well be in order.

Sighing a bit, she turned her thoughts to the second thing that gnawed at her nerves. In two days, Grissom would be back at the hospital for an MRI to see if the last surgery on his left hand had worked. She knew his attitude and lack of enthusiasm was because they were working on one hand instead of both as had happened before but this was the way it had turned out this time. She quickly tried to push down the bile rising up in her throat when the clear memory rose of Andrew telling her about his new injuries and just how much damage Basderic had done.

Again.

A/N: I want a dog! :P