Sara coughed miserably and curled up tighter on the couch, snuggling further under her blanket. Hank, who she had startled awake looked up at her for a moment before laying his head back down on her lap.

"Grissom, I need another blanket," she called out, dreading getting up. "Grissom!" She yelled again when he didn't answer.

"Yes dear?" He asked sticking his head out of the office doorway.

"It's freezing in here."

"Actually, it's warm in here; you're burning up."

"I need another blanket, I'm shivering."

"It's your body's natural solution to the cold."

"A blanket works better," she said, giving him her best pointed stare.

"Alright Sara, I'll be right back," Grissom told her over his shoulder heading for the stairs. Sara turned back to the television where there was an 'I Love Lucy' re-run playing. She moaned miserably into her hand when another coughing fit subsided.

"You should take some more cough syrup," Gil suggested when he came back downstairs a few minutes later, a down blanket in hand. "Scoot," he instructed Hank who jumped clumsily off the couch. "Lie down." He said firmly.

"And to whom are you speaking?" Sara asked.

"You, dear."

"Really. Because that tone could have easily passed for the one you use on the dog," Sara commented, already shifting to stretch out across the couch.

"Sorry," her husband apologized, draping a third blanket over her.

Sara coughed harshly in response, barely getting her cast encased hand up in time to cover her mouth.

"Right, cough syrup," Grissom said turning to the coffee table turned pharmacy. The small black surface was covered in pill and medicine bottles, scar ointments, burn creams, medical tape, gauze, and hot water bottles.

"No, it's poison," Sara moaned pulling the latest addition to her blanket collection over her face.

"'It will cure what ails you…'" Grissom read from the bottle.

"That's false advertising," Sara's words came muffled through the blanket. "It's a symptom reliever, not a cure. I don't trust liars, or their serums."

"It will make you feel better, bottom line," Gil attempted to hold a syrup filled spoon out to where he assumed her mouth was under the blanket.

"I just need my bed," she pulled the blanket down, her pale face sallow.

"Which you refused to stay in…"

"It's boring there!" Sara defended. "The TV in here is way better."

"It's the same TV. And I offered to move this one in there."

"Why when I can come down here," brown eyes eyed the spoon, crinkling at the corners a little.

She watched her husband's eyes crinkle too, deep lines of fatigue pulling the corners in, confusion slightly raising one eyebrow. "But you just sai- never mind. Open wide," he grinned, slipping the spoon between her lips when they parted in protest.