December 02, 2012

I have a new Facebook page if you are interested in adding me. The link is on my Profile or you can search me at 'PrintDust Fanfiction'. I'll be posting updates, author's notes, challenges, poles, and I will be accepting prompts and requests for one-shots. It will be fun to build some community, so please join. :)

Sara had tuned out long before the conversation with her doctor had been over. She had stayed focused on the meeting long enough for the doctor to confirm that the mass in her stomach was indeed cancerous, though she didn't need him to say it. The atmosphere of the room had been grim from the get-go. She had spent the rest of the discussion staring off into space, thinking about her and Grissom, and how much time they had wasted with cryptic messages and outright rejections. She thought about how this could very well be their last adventure together. He was the only person she had ever really loved. Sure she had loved others: friends along the way, from college, coworkers, Jim, Nick, Greg, Warrick, Mandy- even Catherine. And she thought that she had loved Hank, but Grissom was it for her. He was the only one she had ever wanted to hold her, kiss her, cry with, share her heart with, and create a family with.

Looking over at him the room seemed to move in slow motion. One of his hands was tightly wrapped around hers while the other was white knuckling the arm on his chair as he listened intently to everything the doctor was telling him. Watching his lips move around the questions he was asking she felt her throat tighten; though his posture was relaxed his eyes were full of emotion.

Words drifted in and out of her awareness: surgery, removal, chemotherapy, referral, oncologist… How had she become this person that was the topic of a discussion that brought that look to Grissom's eyes?

It seemed like they had just arrived when Grissom got to his feet and shook the doctor's hand. Standing too she looked over at the doctor who had turned to her, his eyes sympathetic. Taking his extended hand she shook it quickly and walked out, Grissom a step behind her. His hand rested gently on the small of her back, guiding her down the long stretch of hallway lined with pictures of random scenes of farmhouses and long fields extending out to nothing. Stopping to inspect one she wondered if these pictures were meant as foreshadowing of what the rest of her life would be: carefully placed scenery that could be destroyed by the simple tremble of a hand, void of any colour, too still to imagine.

"Come on, honey," his gravelly voice whispered in her ear as he pressed a kiss there.

Looking over her shoulder at him her world suddenly exploded with colour; a shock of blue so deep she could imagine it went on forever. Nodding she carried on down the hallway and away from the pictures. They could not be her future, she decided, not if she had Grissom with her. He would stay with her, he would hold everything together, he would be her steady hand. He sat her down in a nearby chair and as he drifted away towards the receptionist's desk she suddenly felt an age old doubt tug at her, but would he be up to the task.

XXXX

"Grissom," Sara nudged at her husband across the expanse of their king sized bed. At some point in the night they had drifted apart to their own corners leaving a wide gap of cold mattress between them.

"Griss," she pushed at his leg with her own until he let out a snort to announce his return to consciousness.

Propping himself up on his elbow to get a better view of her he looked delightfully disheveled in the shaft of light coming through the window. "What it is it? What's wrong?"

Sighing, she turned over to face him properly, reached out a hand towards him, then let it drop to the mattress when her fingers were successfully entwined with his. "Nothing," she whispered softly, then wondered who she was worried about disturbing. It was just them alone in the house since Nick had returned to his apartment a few days prior. "I'm just kind of hungry."

Nodding sleepily Grissom slowly slid out of their bed and stretched his muscles. "What would you like," he asked as he pulled on a pair of boxers.

"Some toast would be good," Sara too got out of bed and made her way around to him.

Together the couple made their way downstairs without bothering to turn the lights on. In the couple of weeks that had passed since Sara's diagnoses they had gotten used to navigating around the house in the dark of night. Usually first to satisfy Sara's rare cases of hunger that often fell in the middle of night for whatever reason, and then again later to the bathroom where her body would reject the food into the sink or the toilet, depending how weak she was feeling.

In the kitchen, Sara took her usual stool at the counter while Grissom took care of preparing the toast. "I'd like some jam and peanut butter."

"Can you stomach it, honey?"

She nodded affirmatively. The truth was she didn't know if she could but she figured if she was going to throw up later anyway she may as well enjoy it now. With her plate in front of her she cut off the crusts and offered them to Hank who was waiting politely at her feet, his tail thumping enthusiastically. After wiping off the saliva that had collected on her fingers during the exchange she picked up her knife and continued to cut up her toast into bite sized squares.

"Sara…" The somber tone to Grissom's voice made her look up instantly. "We need to talk honey…" He reached out and pushed a stray curl out of her eyes.

Concern instantly flooded her dark brown eyes. "Are you upset with me?"

"No," he watched her nibble on the corner of one of her toast squares. "No, Sara, I'm not upset. I think we need to discuss our communication, though. It's important that you start telling me the truth. About how you're feeling, what's going on with you."

Her look of concern changed to one of confusion.

"Your weight journal," he offered as an example. "I understand that you're an extremely independent person," he took one of her hands in his when he saw her look of shame. "And I know that it's hard for you to ask for help and admit to people when you're vulnerable, but it's important that you tell me everything now."

Her shoulders sagged as she gave in. "I didn't want you to think I wasn't trying, Grissom."

"I knew you were trying. I saw what you were eating Sara… We could have figured out that something was wrong a month ago…"

"It's not like you were around," fire flashed into her brown orbs and she pulled her hand away from his. "You were busy at work, you didn't even come home on time to help me. How am I supposed to share things with you when you're never available: emotionally or physically." She stared him down at the end of her rant, waiting for his response. It was slow coming. His face remained unchanging for what felt like forever, then slowly it softened and he nodded in agreement.

"You're right, Sara. I-," he sighed. "I could probably be a contender for the worst husband in the world award. I've never done anything to deserve you. Every single good thing I have ever done combined doesn't make me worthy of being your husband. And I know that I can't say anything that will change what has been done… I suppose the sentiment was best put into words by Omar Khayyam when he wrote, "The moving hand writes; and having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit," Grissom slid his fingers over hers and held them tightly. "Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."

"So what do we do?" Sara felt hot tears filling her eyes as she abandoned her toast and stool and slid over to his lap. Her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders.

"We take it slow. We communicate and we tell each other if something is happening that we don't like. We don't try to control each other, but we consult one another. I'm… far from an expert on relationships, Sara." His fingers swept over her cheekbone then cupped her face. "I rarely say the right thing-"

"-or anything at all," Sara teased, pressing her cheek further into his palm.

"But," he continued as though she had not spoken. "I want to make you laugh the way Greg does, blush the way Nick does."

"I just need you, Grissom. Because you make me happy in a way that no one else can. And we're complex and both terribly stupid sometimes. And we're jealous and completely imperfect-"

"Is this your kind of pep talk?" Hi eyes twinkled for the first time in days. The sight brought a smile to her face.

"Just be here. Do your job and do the best you can at it, but, please just be here."

Nodding curtly Gil held her as closely as he could, promising himself that he would give everything he had to follow through with her request.

XXXX

A couple of weeks later they spent the morning mostly in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Sara watched him pack her bag from her spot in the middle of the bed, every so often reminding him of things she might need during her brief stay at the hospital after her surgery. She had already gone through the preadmission procedure so all that was left was to show up at least an hour before she was set to have her surgery. Although she was nervous she wasn't overly anxious or panicked over the procedure. Mostly because she knew that Grissom would be there to hold her hand until she went to sleep and then again when she came back into consciousness. Part of her believed that he was right when he whispered into her ear in the dark before going to sleep; they really could get through anything as long as they were together.

"Remember Nick has physio at two thirty," She reminded him, lifting Jenny back onto her chest. The kitten had moved out of her scrawny newborn stage to a full body of fuzzy ginger fur. "And don't let Mandy sit around in the waiting room all day, it's not good for her."

"Sara, let's just worry about you for today, okay?" Grissom held up two pairs of slippers. She pointed at the blue silk ones and he tucked them into her bag while at the same time tossing the other pair onto the chair in the corner of the room.

"I'll feel better if I know those two aren't doing anything stupid or risking themselves for no good reason."

"You're a good reason, Sara."

"That not what I meant," she flipped Jenny onto her back. "It's not like they are going to be able to do anything while I'm in surgery anyway. If I code on the table Nick's not exactly going to have the opportunity to charge into the O.R and demand control while he personally resuscitates me," she broke off into a chuckle at the mental image.

"You're not going to code on the table," Grissom answered her very seriously as he packed her a couple of bras.

"Yes, baby, because I can control that one. Don't forget my book. And my Jenny's treats."

"Why?"

"Well she'll need something to snack on in my bag," Sara stroked the kitten's soft fur from the tip of her nose, along her back to the end of her tail.

Grissom blinked slowly. "Sara, you are not taking the cat to the hospital with you," he instructed severely.

Sara's hands clasped over Jenny's ears. "Shh, she doesn't know that yet."

Rolling his eyes at her he picked up the bag he had been packing and tossed a pair or lounge pants and a shirt at her with a gruff. "Get dressed or we'll be late." He could barely hold back a smile as she screwed up her perfect nose at him in protest and pulled the shirt over her head.

XXXX

Grissom and Sara made the drive to the hospital in silence as neither of them felt up to having a forced or uncomfortable conversation. Rather, each left the other to their own thoughts. Sara sunk as deeply into the seat as she possibly could, her arms crossed over her stomach. She had been experiencing waves of pain and nausea all morning as she had been required to skip her last two doses of her pain medication. She was anxious for the surgery to be over.

When they arrived at the hospital they were able to go directly to the surgical ward, as they had taken the steps to have her pre admitted days prior. Sara felt Grissom's hand press into her lower back and rest there and she deliberately slowed her pace so that she could move more closely to his side. Looking over her shoulder briefly their eyes met and he offered her an encouraging smile. She pursed her lips in response and returned her gaze forward, blinking back tears.

Neither Grissom nor Sara were surprised when they entered the waiting room to find Mandy already there, looking at the clock anxiously. As soon as she spotted the couple heading in her direction the print tech got to her feet and crossed over to them. "Hi," she spoke softly, leaning in to give Sara half hug. "I just wanted to stop by to wish you luck," the dark haired woman's eyes widened behind her square rimmed glasses. "Not that you'll need it… everything is going to go great."

Sara looked over her shoulder again at Grissom who offered Mandy a tight smile. "We appreciate your support. Thank you for coming." He slipped his other arm around Sara's shoulders and held her tightly to his chest.

Mandy's eyes brightened a little and some of the anxiety in them faded, she turned her eyes hopefully to Sara.

"Yeah… thanks for coming," Sara breathed, resting her head back against Grissom. "You shouldn't stay though. You should go home. Grissom will call you as soon as there is anything to report."

"I want to be here, Sara. And I am staying," Mandy said stubbornly, sinking into the nearest chair. "So get on with it."

Biting back a smile Sara nodded and looked back at her husband again. Giving her a gentle squeeze he jutted his chin towards the intake desk and she nodded slowly. Together they made their way over to the desk and the nurse seated behind it.

XXXXXX

"This has got to be the ugliest shade of green I have ever seen in my life," Sara mused to her husband from her seat on the bed. "Who would pick this colour? For anything?"

"I don't think it's that bad," he responded without looking up from the information package he was currently reading through.

Sara shifted her eyes away from the walls to him and focused on his posture. On the outside to anyone who didn't know him he would most likely appear the perfect picture of calm. She, however, could see his anxiety as it presented himself in the constant flexing of his knuckles and how he moistened his lips every couple of seconds. "You're going to dry your lips out, Gilbert." She scolded softly, extending her leg in order to use her toes to push the file on his lap closed.

"Sara, I need to read that," he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her toes and giving her foot a gentle rub.

"You can read it while I'm in surgery. Come keep me warm." She scooted backwards in the bed, biting down on her lip and squeezing her eyes shut to fight the pain biting into her abdomen. His hands were on her in an instant as he guided her back against the pillows. She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her, his hands brushing her hair off her forehead.

"Are you okay?" He asked her, leaning in to rest his cheek on her temple.

"I'll be better when this is all over."

The bed dipped under his weight as he crawled in beside her, his arms folding around her to hold her against him. His lips pressed kisses into her hair. "I love you so much. This will all be better soon. Just focus on that."

"Right now, I am focusing on…" She trailed off.

"What honey?"

"The fact that my ass is hanging out for everyone to see… Think you could do something about that?"

Chuckling softly her husband helped her to slide under the sheets on the bed and get comfortable in his arms.

It wasn't long before a friendly but tired looking nurse bustled into the room with a warm greeting and a promise to be gentle as she inserted Sara's i.v. and prepped her for surgery. Grissom stood by quietly, watching carefully to ensure that his wife was being taken care of properly and remained as comfortable as possible through the process.

When it was time for her to be wheeled out of the room he wrapped her hand tightly in his own and leaned in to kiss her gently.

"I'm…" Sara swallowed hard. Hot tears escaped the corner of her eyes and slid quickly down her temples to be absorbed into her hairline. "I'm scared," she admitted, feeling her body start to tremble lightly.

"I know," his lips pressed against her eyes.

"You'll contaminate me," she released a throaty laugh and sniffled, reaching up to wipe her eyes.

Giving her one last kiss, Gil stepped back from the bed and watched as she was wheeled through the door. The air in his lungs escaped in a sudden burst and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked around the room that suddenly seemed cold. "Christ," he muttered. "These walls are ugly."