Chapter 10

I do not own CSI; the characters are not mine.

Sara opened her eyes as the sun filtered in through the living room window, casting lines across the room and laying wavy beams along the sofa bed. She still felt a little groggy from the medication-induced slumber, and she could feel the dull ache beginning to radiate throughout her body; something she was becoming quite accustomed to since returning from the hospital. Yawning, she turned her head to look towards Gil, but he was not there next to her. Closing her eyes momentarily, she decided she needed to get herself up and moving around on her own. Gil was generally insistent on doing everything for her and while Sara thought that was a sweet gesture, she knew that if she did not begin her own self-therapy, she might lose any physical strength she had left.

She carefully reached over and grabbed the wheelchair that she had been allotted by the pharmacy equipment center and pulled it towards the sofa couch, making sure to lock the wheels in place. Even though she loathed the thing, she knew that it was a necessary, if not annoying, accessory. She managed to wiggle her way to a slanted position before pulling herself over to the edge of the couch and into the chair, gritting her teeth as her body protested the move. 'Get used to it' She told herself. 'I'm not going to lay around here forever.' Her broken left wrist throbbed with the effort, but she managed to back the wheelchair away from the couch and make her determined way around it. Feeling valiant, she wished Nick were there to see her accomplishment; they had spent over an hour the previous evening practicing this very task before he made her roll around the clever obstacle course he'd put up throughout the townhouse for her. She still hadn't told Gil about the lamp she'd broke; she thought she'd save that one for later.

The house seemed eerily quiet for 8:00 AM; Gil was usually up and had breakfast prepared by then, although Sara rarely ate any of it. She thought about heading towards the balcony to see if he spent another evening out there, but the urge to empty her bladder took over and she decided against it. After all, it was a little humiliating having help going to the bathroom in the first place, but having to have Gil help was even worse.

Once in the bathroom, she decided to make use of the extendable showerhead Nick had installed for her the previous evening. 'Look,' He had said as he did the installation. 'You know I love you, Sara…but if you don't have a shower soon, there's no way in hell your gonna roll that stinky body of yours anywhere near this man's nose.' Sara had laughed at him, subconsciously smelling her extremities. The main thing Sara had loved most about her best friend was his ability to make her laugh, no matter the situation. Of all the people that Sara knew, Nick was the one who understood her desire to just forget about the things that hurt the most. She knew that it was because, like her, Nick had suffered a traumatic experience relating to their line of work that he had wanted to just forget.

Forty-five minutes later, Sara had managed the incredibly slow task of showering and had changed out of the sweats she'd been wearing into a pair of Gil's boxers (since they fit with ease over the large cast on her leg) and a tank top. Brushing her hair with shaking hands, she looked at herself in the mirror. 'Damn, Sidle...' She said to her reflection. 'You look like a cheap Halloween costume.' She sat there and stared at herself, overcome by a sudden rush of anxiety.

"I'm sure that Grissom is doing a lot of this out of guilt" Hodges had said as he visited her in the hospital last week. Seeing the look on Sara's face, he went on. "Well, you know he is responsible for what happened..."

Sara had only stared at him, the morphine drip the doctors had her on made her hallucinate at times; was this another hallucination?

"If it wasn't for him, you would have never gotten hurt," Hodges had told her, rubbing a hand on her cheek. Sara could feel herself slipping into the world of morphine-bliss, his words sounding deep and hallow, far away. "He wasn't supposed to involve you...this was never meant for you, Sara..." why wouldn't he go away? What was he saying? Sara thought she was dreaming; it was only a dream...

"But..." He had leaned close to her ear, rubbing her hair as he spoke, "once you start playing the game, you have to finish it...I guess Grissom decided that you were his greatest sacrifice...I'm sorry he did this to you..." Sara had felt herself drifting off into nowhere...falling down a dark hole...drifting away.

Sara shook her head, haunted by the memory...but was it a memory? 'No' She told herself. 'Just another one of those stupid hallucinations...like the rabbits.' She scoffed at herself, remembering the rabbits in her hospital room, smoking pot and listening to the Beatles. Just another hallucination.

She managed to pick her dirty laundry off the floor and deposit in the hamper before leaving the room, making her way into the bedroom to look for Gil. Finding the room empty, she made her way slowly into his office and stopped abruptly, her heart skipping a beat as she felt the panic rise in her cheeks. Gil was on the floor, sprawled out on his side. Papers cluttered the ground around him, his computer lay on the floor near his feet where it had been knocked off the desk and his books were thrown around the room, violently shoved to the floor by what looked like a moment of rage.

Panicking, Sara threw herself out of the chair, the bolt of excruciating pain that reverberated through her body only intensifying her fear. She scattered toward him, reaching out to lift his face and then she stopped, seeing the drained bottle of Scotch lying near his outstretched arm and smelling the strong stench of alcohol. 'Oh, Shit…' She thought as her heart rate returned to normal. She lifted his head gently onto her bare leg, stroking his hair as she looked down at him. "Gris?" She said softly. He didn't move and so she shook his head slightly. "Gil?"

He started moaning, pushing her hand away. "If you touch me again I'll break your arm…" He mumbled. Sara froze, staring down at him with wide eyes. She didn't know what to do and was about to drop his head back onto the floor when his eyes opened. It seemed to take him a moment to adjust his vision and focus on her face. His eyes grew nearly as wide as hers as he groaned. "Oh, God…Sara…" Trying to sit up, his face took on a look of intense discomfort as he laid it back down in her lap.

"Are you still going to break my arm?" She asked him tentatively as she held her hand in the same frozen position.

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her. "What?" He asked groggily.

"My arm." She repeated. "You said you'd break my arm…"

"Oh, Sara…" He groaned again. "I think I was dreaming…" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I think you were drunk." She said simply, resuming her gentle stroking of his hair. "You smell like a two-cent hooker."

Silence. After a few minutes, he opened one eye to peer at her. "Did I really say I'd break your arm?"

She nodded at him and after a few more minutes, he lifted his head slightly and glanced around the room, groaning with obvious discomfort at the scene before him. Sara followed his gaze around the room; several small items were broken and she wasn't sure his computer would recover. "Did you do all this?" She asked quietly.

He said nothing, dropping his head back down to lay it on her lap. His eyes closed and he lay there quietly as Sara continued to smooth his hair, running her hand down his check in a soothing motion. She had only seen Gil drunk on one occasion, and that was a direct result of drinking too much of Greg's eggnog at a Christmas party several years before. She had laughed at him then; however, Sara did not find this event amusing at all.

After what seemed like a very long time, Gil finally broke the silence, speaking so softly that Sara barely heard him. "I don't think I can do this, Sara…" he whispered, his eyes still closed.

She glanced around the room quickly, looking back down at him. "Can't do what, Sweetheart?" She asked softly. When he didn't respond to her question, Sara repeated it again, "Gil…what can't you do?"

He looked up at her, his face clouded with emotion. His eyes filled with tears as he gazed up at her, reaching a hand up to rub it delicately along her bruised chin, "I can't hurt you anymore, Honey..." he said, swallowing hard at his emotions. "I just don't want to do it anymore..."

With that he slowly sat up, kissing her softly. "I love you...more than you can ever imagine," He said tenderly. "But I just don't think I can do this..." He rose to his feet and walked unsteadily out the door, leaving Sara alone in a room full of shattered pieces.