Bedside Stories Chapter 3

Bedside Stories Chapter 3

"Gil." The way she said his name, that soft, husky whisper, made more so by what she had been through; the way she said his name when they were alone, in bed, when she wanted him.

His hand found her cheek, one place that was not bruised or cut or otherwise wounded. "You've been through an ordeal, much of it I don't know. Fractured arm, wrist. Extensive bruising." He pointed to his face. "Face, here and here. Everything will heal." These were the things that showed on the surface.

He pointed to the monitors behind her head. "Hyperthermia—serious, but if anything, these people know how to cool a body. You were burning up inside—cold water, cooling blankets, meds to stop shivering." His hand moved so his fingers caressed her neck. "You've had a tube in your throat, check for bleeding, core temperature."

He watched as she tried to smile, saying "At least it wasn't David checking my temp."

"No, it wasn't." He could not think about how close they had been to losing her. "Can you sleep?"

Her head moved slightly. "Can you stay?"

"Yes."

She drifted back to sleep, dreams coming to her from the distant past of a dead father, a missing mother, an abandoned childhood. She woke to a darkened room hearing sounds of machines and low voices beyond the door. She searched for Grissom, sitting beside her, asleep, his head beside her hip, his fingers touching her hand. Even in sleep, his face showed fatigue of days of worry. She remained quiet and still trying to recall what she could remember of the preceding days.

Her memory came in parts and pieces. Natalie—holding a gun, no, not a gun, a tazer. The trunk of a car. She knew she got out of the trunk. Greg wasn't going to drain her human soup out of a trunk. Her thought process was interrupted when it jumped from the trunk to underneath a car and rain coming down. That wasn't right. Something else happened.

The coyote came. That was before the rain. She had watched as the animal sniffed near her outstretched arm. And she wasn't afraid.

Most people knew about coyotes from a cartoon. Sara knew folklore stories of the wise and smart coyote, who brought light to earth, who tricked those who did not like him, who was the spirit of the dead, and who would not die. She would not die, not tonight under the car.

The desert nearly did what the kidnapper, the car, and the rain did not do. The pain came back when she thought of the parched thirst and the sun. She licked her lips and wanted fluids. In her mind, the extremes came back to her. The flood of water until the sun came up in a cloudless sky. The chills of being wet and cold. The heat as the sun scorched her skin.

It faded at some point, or her brain was too tired to think. A cup of juice was just beyond her reach. Grissom's breathing was deep and easy. She did not want to wake him. The cup made a ring of condensation on the table top.

There was a light tap on the door and fingertips appeared around the door. Nick's face followed. Sara smiled. Grissom continued to sleep.

"Hey, girl." He whispered. "You're awake." He came to her bedside opposite where Grissom slept in the chair.

She nodded. "Just in time to get me a drink, too." She said.

He reached across the bed and brought the cup and straw to her mouth. "It's hard to find a good nurse." Nick indicated the older man who had not stirred.

Sara whispered, "I hated to wake him."

"Yeah. He hasn't left you, Sara. Wouldn't let any of us stay. I've never seen him like this."

"Thanks, Nick. I know you found me. Grissom…" They kept their voices in quiet whispers.

Nick leaned and kissed her forehead. "We all love you, sweetie. You were smart to take the mirror."

"I didn't want to die."

Nick smiled at her words; similar words had been spoken after he had been found. "It wasn't your time," his smile brought back the day she had been with him.

"Grissom should go home."

Nick shook his head. "We tried, but he refuses. Brass brought a change of clothes. I'd bet he hasn't had three hours of sleep in three days." He raised the juice back to her mouth.

"He loves you, Sara."

She looked at the sleeping man beside her bed. "He loves all of us."

Nick said nothing for a full minute. "We know." Her eyes moved to his. "It slipped out, after Natalie took you." Her mouth opened. "He got another miniature, it was you."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, now, don't cry. I can't stand that. Heck, we've known forever about that torch you carry. There's been times I wanted to—to take him to the woodshed." His thumb moved gently across her eye. "Don't cry. You need those fluids inside, not outside."

Sara's voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "Did he say we lived together?"

Nick shook his head. "Not that. He said—'Natalie has taken the only person I've ever loved'."

Tears appeared again in her eyes. "He said it like that?"

His head nodded a yes and he smiled a big grin. "Yep. Talk about silence. I know it was three minutes before anyone said a word. But just as quickly, we knew it was true. We had watched you two tease and flirt and be mad at each other for years, so I guess we didn't pay enough attention when it stopped." He chuckled as he thought of Catherine's response. He would wait to tell that story.