-----
"This isn't the hospital."
At her friend's dry statement, Catherine looked over. "You need food, sleep,
and fresh clothing. Not necessarily in that order."
"What I *need*," he countered evenly, "is to get back to the hospital."
Opening the door resolutely, his friend hopped out and walked around to pull
him from the SUV. "You will get there...When I say so."
He looked at the smile on her face and an expression akin to a scowl appeared
on his. "You're enjoying this."
"Oh yeah." She nodded, pushing him toward the building. "Believe me Gil, Sara
will thank you for this...I know I will."
-----
The problem with running on adrenaline is that - like all fuels - it eventually
runs out and Grissom's chose to run out halfway through getting dressed.
Catherine left him alone to shower and shave while she made something for
him to eat. Though he wouldn't admit it to her, staring at his reflection in
the mirror, he needed the rest but he couldn't fight the undeniable pull to
be at Sara's side. It was a physical ache that tugged at him constantly.
Unfortunately it was an ache his body didn't have the strength to assuage
and, when he sat on the bed to pull on his socks, he fell asleep.
That was how Catherine found him...flat on his back, shirt half-buttoned,
chest rising and falling in the deep and easy rhythm of sleep. With a smile,
she set down his sandwich and milk on the nearest available surface before
picking up a blanket and draping it across her friend. "Sleep well." She
murmured in a whisper.
------
He dreamed of Sara. Dreamt of her in the way he always did. Whole, happy,
and his. In his dreams, Grissom allowed himself to indulge in the feelings
and desires he never let himself truly experience.
This time it was a picnic.
He didn't question the field of perfectly green grass. Such a detail was
irrelevant to a dreamer. The only thing he was interested in was the woman
leaning against him.
"Look." Sara's voice was soft, the epitome of relaxation as she pointed at a
butterfly flitting it's way across the bed of flowers a few feet away.
Fascinated by the way the sun was hitting her dark hair, he barely gave the
insect a second look but - as she expected - he voiced the exact name and
origins with little thought.
She laughed softly and turned in his arms. "Is there anything you don't know?"
"A million things." He replied, skimming a hand over her hair, brushing it off
her forehead.
"Like what?" She pressed, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.
"Why it's beautiful." His gaze found the butterfly once more and he watched it
a moment before looking back to her face. "I can tell you what gives it the
coloring it has, it's life cycle, everything about it, but I can't tell you
why it's beautiful..."
Sara sat up, folding her legs to one side. "That's just it, Gil, you don't
*need* to know why." She reached out, a hand running along the side of his
face. "You just need to know that it is. Some things you accept on faith."
He captured her hand between his, lifting it to his lips. "Faith."
"Faith." She nodded.
"Faith's in short supply these days."
"You can borrow some of mine." Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss across
his forehead, then dropped one on the tip of his nose, before letting her
lips hover near his. "When it comes to you, I have plenty."
"Funny," He murmured, feeling her breath against his mouth, warmth tickling.
"I was thinking the same of you."
A burst of laughter escaped her as he caught her in his arms, falling backward
with her.
Their lips came together in a slow, leisurely meeting. It was the kiss of those
who had forever, if only in dreams, and wished to experience every moment
possible.
But the body has no respect for the wishes of the heart and the need for
oxygen drove their mouths apart, but by the most minimal of distances.
"I love you." he told her between breaths, the words so easy to say when
protected by the safety of the dreamworld.
She smiled. A smile without any restrictions or pain, her face showing no
sign of the trauma the real Sara had suffered. "I know." She started to return
the sentiment but somehow, this time, he couldn't bear to hear it from an
illusion. Not anymore.
It wasn't enough.
He wanted it from the real Sara.
Nothing else would do.
-----
The room was dark when he woke.
Squinting, he fumbled for his glasses then looked at the nearest clock,
muttering an oath when he realized how much time had passed.
Grissom sat up, the blanket he'd been covered in sliding to the floor, and
reached out to turn on a light. He had to get to the hospital. He'd been
away too long.
Catherine appeared at the door and smiled. "Good, you're up. Eat and then
I'll take you to the hospital."
He opened his mouth to speak but she didn't give him the chance, closing the
door again.
Despite himself, he smiled at her behavior. Old friends never listened when
it came down to it. Not unless they wanted to. "Immunity," he murmured
quietly. "The cost of friendship."
The sandwich and milk were devoured in record time and he rushed through
dressing so much that he had to rebutton his shirt twice, missing buttons
each time. He didn't care. His goal was seeing Sara again and a few buttons
were irrelevant in comparison.
------
"Let's go."
Catherine barely had time to register Grissom's presence in the room before
her friend was striding past, intent on the door.
Blinking, she swivelled and grabbed her jacket. "Ok..."
As she followed him out of the room, Catherine allowed herself one small
smile.
"Welcome back, Gil..."
----------
"This isn't the hospital."
At her friend's dry statement, Catherine looked over. "You need food, sleep,
and fresh clothing. Not necessarily in that order."
"What I *need*," he countered evenly, "is to get back to the hospital."
Opening the door resolutely, his friend hopped out and walked around to pull
him from the SUV. "You will get there...When I say so."
He looked at the smile on her face and an expression akin to a scowl appeared
on his. "You're enjoying this."
"Oh yeah." She nodded, pushing him toward the building. "Believe me Gil, Sara
will thank you for this...I know I will."
-----
The problem with running on adrenaline is that - like all fuels - it eventually
runs out and Grissom's chose to run out halfway through getting dressed.
Catherine left him alone to shower and shave while she made something for
him to eat. Though he wouldn't admit it to her, staring at his reflection in
the mirror, he needed the rest but he couldn't fight the undeniable pull to
be at Sara's side. It was a physical ache that tugged at him constantly.
Unfortunately it was an ache his body didn't have the strength to assuage
and, when he sat on the bed to pull on his socks, he fell asleep.
That was how Catherine found him...flat on his back, shirt half-buttoned,
chest rising and falling in the deep and easy rhythm of sleep. With a smile,
she set down his sandwich and milk on the nearest available surface before
picking up a blanket and draping it across her friend. "Sleep well." She
murmured in a whisper.
------
He dreamed of Sara. Dreamt of her in the way he always did. Whole, happy,
and his. In his dreams, Grissom allowed himself to indulge in the feelings
and desires he never let himself truly experience.
This time it was a picnic.
He didn't question the field of perfectly green grass. Such a detail was
irrelevant to a dreamer. The only thing he was interested in was the woman
leaning against him.
"Look." Sara's voice was soft, the epitome of relaxation as she pointed at a
butterfly flitting it's way across the bed of flowers a few feet away.
Fascinated by the way the sun was hitting her dark hair, he barely gave the
insect a second look but - as she expected - he voiced the exact name and
origins with little thought.
She laughed softly and turned in his arms. "Is there anything you don't know?"
"A million things." He replied, skimming a hand over her hair, brushing it off
her forehead.
"Like what?" She pressed, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.
"Why it's beautiful." His gaze found the butterfly once more and he watched it
a moment before looking back to her face. "I can tell you what gives it the
coloring it has, it's life cycle, everything about it, but I can't tell you
why it's beautiful..."
Sara sat up, folding her legs to one side. "That's just it, Gil, you don't
*need* to know why." She reached out, a hand running along the side of his
face. "You just need to know that it is. Some things you accept on faith."
He captured her hand between his, lifting it to his lips. "Faith."
"Faith." She nodded.
"Faith's in short supply these days."
"You can borrow some of mine." Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss across
his forehead, then dropped one on the tip of his nose, before letting her
lips hover near his. "When it comes to you, I have plenty."
"Funny," He murmured, feeling her breath against his mouth, warmth tickling.
"I was thinking the same of you."
A burst of laughter escaped her as he caught her in his arms, falling backward
with her.
Their lips came together in a slow, leisurely meeting. It was the kiss of those
who had forever, if only in dreams, and wished to experience every moment
possible.
But the body has no respect for the wishes of the heart and the need for
oxygen drove their mouths apart, but by the most minimal of distances.
"I love you." he told her between breaths, the words so easy to say when
protected by the safety of the dreamworld.
She smiled. A smile without any restrictions or pain, her face showing no
sign of the trauma the real Sara had suffered. "I know." She started to return
the sentiment but somehow, this time, he couldn't bear to hear it from an
illusion. Not anymore.
It wasn't enough.
He wanted it from the real Sara.
Nothing else would do.
-----
The room was dark when he woke.
Squinting, he fumbled for his glasses then looked at the nearest clock,
muttering an oath when he realized how much time had passed.
Grissom sat up, the blanket he'd been covered in sliding to the floor, and
reached out to turn on a light. He had to get to the hospital. He'd been
away too long.
Catherine appeared at the door and smiled. "Good, you're up. Eat and then
I'll take you to the hospital."
He opened his mouth to speak but she didn't give him the chance, closing the
door again.
Despite himself, he smiled at her behavior. Old friends never listened when
it came down to it. Not unless they wanted to. "Immunity," he murmured
quietly. "The cost of friendship."
The sandwich and milk were devoured in record time and he rushed through
dressing so much that he had to rebutton his shirt twice, missing buttons
each time. He didn't care. His goal was seeing Sara again and a few buttons
were irrelevant in comparison.
------
"Let's go."
Catherine barely had time to register Grissom's presence in the room before
her friend was striding past, intent on the door.
Blinking, she swivelled and grabbed her jacket. "Ok..."
As she followed him out of the room, Catherine allowed herself one small
smile.
"Welcome back, Gil..."
----------