"I think I messed up," Greg Sanders told Catherine as he walked into her office.

"Oh come on, Greg, shift hasn't even started yet," the acting Supervisor replied.

"No…not the job. I was, um….online today and Sara IM'd me." Catherine looked at him surprised. "You heard from Sara?"

"Yeah," Greg answered. "We IM every now and then…but today, well….she asked me how everything was. And I started to tell her about Grissom and…."

"Greg, you didn't…"

"Ah…yeah. And before I could explain about Jenny and Thomas and everything, she left. All she knows is that he was shot. I think she might be on her way here."

Catherine stared at the younger CSI. "You're kidding…" was all she could say.

"Sooo, what do I do? Should I tell him?"

"No…not yet," Catherine replied. "She might not be coming. I don't know why she would after…everything." Her mind was spinning, trying to wrap itself around the situation. Would Grissom even care? "Do you think she'll call you if she comes back?"

"I don't know…maybe," Greg answered.

"If she does, you have to convince her not to go to him. He doesn't need the stress…"

"Yeah, I understand."

Meanwhile….

Gil woke from his nap to find Thomas curled next to him, taking a nap of his own. He looked around for his walker, feeling the need for a bathroom trip. Spotting it a few feet away, he sighed. Slowly he sat up and eased his legs over the side of the bed firmly planting his feet on the floor. He was just about to try to stand when Jenny showed up. She hurried to his side and stood, poised to help him if he needed it but letting him stand on his own.

She pulled his walker closer. Balancing on it, he began to move across the room, feeling somewhat victorious. Jenny watched him as he slowly made his way to the bathroom. She fought the urge to help, knowing that he needed to do as much as he could on his own. She'd seen his struggle to recover and she didn't want to take anything away from him. He would continue to get stronger, she mused; he just had to.

Thomas had awakened and sat mutely watching his father. Once Gil closed the door behind him, Thomas looked at his mother, tears in his eyes. She saw his anguish and sat next to him, putting her arm around him. "Daddy's hurt bad…" Thomas cried.

"Yes, he was. But he's getting better. It's just going to take some time. But you can help him, you know."

"I can?" his small voice replied.

"Yes. He really enjoyed you reading to him while he went to sleep. And there will be times he needs you to get things for him. And of course, there will be times when you need to be quiet so he can rest. The therapy that the doctors gave him to do makes him tired."

Thomas sat up and looked down at the floor, sadly. "I…didn't really read to him. I 'membered the words from when he read it to me."

"That's okay. He still enjoyed it and it makes him happy to have you close to him like that, sharing your books."

"I got lots more books…" he said, happier.

"Good…but only one at a time, okay?"

"Okay…"

Just then the door opened and Gil slowly made his way out. Jenny saw what the effort was costing him; his face was tired and his leg wasn't moving very well. Silently she debated if she should help or let him finish on his own. Seeing the determination in his expression, she decided not to help unless he showed signs of falling.

Gil made it back to the bed and sat, winded and obviously out of gas. "You want to sit up or lie back down?" Jenny asked.

He looked across at the chair and then glanced back at the bed. "I'll sit up but I need to catch my breath before moving to the chair," he told her. She nodded and then moved to the chair, scooting it closer to the bed. "Maybe this will help," she said. A few minutes later, Gil was settled in the chair with Thomas on the floor playing. Hank needed a walk and Gil assured Jenny that he was okay, so she promised to be back quickly and headed out with the dog.

Gil was proud that she felt he was strong enough to be left alone, especially with Thomas. But by the time she made it back, he needed to lie down. He took another nap while Thomas watched a video and she prepared supper. In an odd sort of way, he thought, it seemed very domestic and quietly he realized that he had a homelife.

That night, as Jenny prepared Thomas for bed, Gil watched, wondering what the sleeping arrangements would be. He knew what he wanted and where he wanted that to go, but he doubted that he was ready for the full implications of his thoughts. He'd gotten used to Jenny being always close while he was in the hospital and he was craving that now. Maybe, if we are all in the same bed. He knew he was up for some serious snuggling.

Jenny was aware of his watchfulness. She glanced over Thomas' shoulder and winked at Gil as she helped the boy into his pj's. Gil smiled with relief, knowing what her wink meant. He wouldn't be alone in his bed that night. And so a pattern began with Gil and Thomas getting into bed about the same time every night, one reading to the other, and then snuggling as they both fell asleep. Jenny would use that time to finish the kitchen chores and have a few minutes of quiet time to herself before turning out the lights and heading to bed. Once she made her way to the bedroom and changed clothes, she'd scoot Thomas across the bed and work her way into the space next to Gil, who'd waken enough to open his arms and welcome her. And they'd sleep like that, Gil and Jenny, wrapped around one another with Thomas sometimes snuggling into Jenny or sometimes finding his way over to Gil's side of the bed. And every morning, Gil would awaken to the feel of her in his arms and know that he had the strength to make it through another day of therapy, frustrations and set backs, small victories and accomplishments.

Neither Greg nor Catherine mentioned that Sara had heard of his injury. They agreed that Gil needn't hear about it unless she showed up in Vegas. He'd only worry, they reasoned; and he didn't need to worry. Catherine was watching the growing bond between Gil and Jenny and believed he had finally found happiness. Sara would only complicate things and Gil didn't need complications. His smiles came easier than she could ever recall and years seemed to be falling off his face. Even without total use of the left side of his body, he moved easier, without seeming to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was more like the old Gil Grissom, the one she'd first met almost twenty years before. After everything Sara had put him through, leaving him twice, Catherine wasn't going to let the woman have another go at him if she could help it.

Greg had other reasons for remaining quiet on the subject. He was afraid that if Grissom heard that Sara knew and she showed up, Grissom would take her back. Greg wanted to be the one to intercept her and explain things; the one whose shoulder she cried on. Consequently, he kept trying to get in touch with her, but without success.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Hmmm, what next, I wonder.