It didn't take long for Grissom to heal and he was back to his old arcane self in no time. A week of healing in the hospital under the watchful eye of his doctor was succeeded by a convalescing time at his home.

He sat on his couch, feet propped up on the table with the latest forensic magazine on his lap. He tried to concentrate on the article but his mind kept going back to its original thought. Where was Sara? He had gotten used to her daily visits to him in the hospital. His eyes opened every morning staring at the clock, counting the minutes until she usually got there, which had been between eight and nine o'clock in the morning. She would stay until around noon and then leave to rest. But she would always be back by supper – and bringing some real food – and then off to work again by seven. It had become routine and one he had come to trust in.

Now he sat on his couch, alone with a magazine which, surprisingly enough, was not capturing his interest as it normally would have. He looked once again at his phone and debated for probably the tenth time that morning whether or not to call her. He had never actually asked her to come and visit him, it had just sorta happened. And now he missed her something fierce. Even a forensic magazine couldn't keep his mind off her. Taking a deep breath and tossing the magazine onto the table, he leaned over – careful of his arm in the sling – and dialed her number, again. It rang once. It rang twice. At the third ring he was just about to hang up, the fear having gripped him to tightly, when it was picked up. He heard some fumbling and then a groggy voice, "Sidle."

He had her woken up! He sat with the phone by his ear saying nothing. Maybe he could hang up and pretend it was a wrong number. With what little sleep she usually got and he had to go and wake her up. It was only ten o'clock in the morning, what was she doing sleeping?! But social decorum dictated now that she was awake he ought to say something. "Sara, I'm sorry I woke you up – ."

"Grissom?" She sounded a bit more awake now.

"Uh, yeah. I, uh… uh, I…"

"What is it, Griss?" Did she sound annoyed?

"Well, I uh… I missed you?" And why did that have to sound so pathetic? Why couldn't he just come out and say it?

"You missed me?"

Grissom swallowed the lump the fear in his throat. "Uh, yeah. I did. You know, you get into a routine and then when it changes it's sorta… jars you….?"

"Routine?"

She didn't understand. "Yeah, routine. Uh…"

"Griss? Say it."

He took a deep breath. "I missed you coming to see me every day in the hospital and I was wondering if you were gonna - if you'd like to – if you wanted to - ."

"Come over?"

He exhaled deeply. "Yeah…"

There was silence on the other end. What did that mean?

"Give me an hour and I'll be there okay?"

His heart jumped in his chest. She was coming over! "Okay! Then, uh, I'll see you in an hour."

"Yeah." And then she hung up.

Grissom sat back in the couch and sighed. She was coming over.


~*~

The door bell rang about an hour and a half later and a jittery Grissom jumped from the couch, wincing as the sudden pain in his shoulder caught him off guard. He'd been waiting rather impatiently for the first hour, tidying up as much as could with his one good arm and a body too doped up to really care about the other arm. Being a meticulous clean freak meant that tidying up took all of fifteen minutes: no dishes to wash - they were always done as soon as eating was done, nothing to really put away except for the magazines he had tried to read that morning, sweeping was a no-show with only one good arm, so that left sprucing up his couch by rearranging the cushions somewhat and straightening some books that didn't need straightening.

The last half hour was spent sitting on the couch and then jumping up to check out his window and then sitting back down, checking the television, and then running back to the window. In the middle of all this he actually remembered to take his pain medication, but only because the sudden amount of movement he was forcing on his body this morning only served to bring about more pain what with the jarring motions of jumping up and spinning around in his haste.

So when the doorbell actually did ring - he missed seeing her walk up his steps, how could he have done that? he'd been there almost ever minute! - he was at it in a flash. Routine dictated that he look through his peep hole before opening the door which caused him to appear rather normal when it was finally opened - as though he hadn't actually ran for the door.

And there she stood, in all her morning glory - fresh washed and scented with that glorious gap-toothed smile on the ready for him. "Hey! So I hear you need some company!" she said, grinning at him before waltzing into this apartment and beginning to look around. "You know, I've never been here before."

"Yeah, I know." Grissom said as he shut the door and turned to her. She was looking at him with an expectant look, like a visitor would look at a host expecting a host's actions. "I, uh, never liked people in my home before. It makes me nervous. But..." he shrugged. "People change."

Sara smiled. "Yeah, they do. So... your couch?"

"Over there."

"I see." She headed for it and sat down, waiting for him to either join her, or not. He sat down beside her.

Places have different atmospheres and as such different effects of people. In the hospital – a relatively public place – there was a sense of relaxation between them as though the place itself were a sort of chaperon for their burgeoning feelings. They could sit and talk and the sounds from the hallway were a constant reminder that the nurse could walk in at any moment and interrupt them. So there had been extrinsic urges to remain on a platonic plane of relating.

But here in the confines and solitude of his apartment with not much chance for interruption, the atmosphere was much different. It was charged with unspoken energy neither of them could admit it.

Sara could feel him sitting beside her and even though she wasn't looking at him, she could still feel his posture. She could feel his nervousness and fear of the unknown, it was not much different from her own. Whereas most of their conversations took place at work or in public places, this was very new to both of them and neither knew how to proceed.

Grissom took a deep breath and, looking down at his hands, spoke first "You know, where I was in the hospital, I remember hearing your voice…"

Sara's head snapped up. "Uh… my voice?" It wasn't without some trepidation that she wondered what exactly he was talking about.

"Yeah… I could hear your voice, and uh…" he stopped here. How was he going to say what he really wanted to say without sounding like some existential nutcase?

"You heard my voice? When?"

"When I was… out. I don't remember much only that I heard you and… and I wanted to come back."

Sara sat speechless for a moment. He could hear her? "Oh." Was all she could think of to say.

There was a silence between them as each pondered their own reasons for being here. Grissom had needed to see her again. After spending most of every day working with her and having her visit him every day in the hospital the sudden loneliness was just too much like that grey place he'd been in. He needed to at least hear her voice. But here she was and he was saying nothing of much consequence. "You heard me…? Speaking?"

Grissom looked up at her. "Uh no. Not words… not really." His body shifted so that he was facing her square on. "I heard your voice. Coming and going. And I realized that… I didn't want to live if I couldn't hear your voice anymore."

Sara stared at him, gape mouthed. In all her life, one could count on one hand the amount of times Sara Sidle had been rendered speechless, and this made the beginning of the second hand. Her heart had started pounding in her chest and the blood rushing in her ears. She felt her body begin to shake ever so slightly as her breathing came in jerky gasps. She licked her lips and went to speak but no words came out. "You know… they – the doctors – said that…" she took a deep breath, "they lost you a few times on the table in the operating room. They said that, it was like… you… didn't want to live."

Grissom lowered his head and closed his eyes. The memory of his thoughts before the incident of getting shot came to him - how the pain didn't really hit until later, how his thoughts had become so wrapped up in self-deprecation - that the thought of it all ending with one bullet had seemed fitting, in some twisted analogous sort of way. "I remember… grey. It was so grey and dark and cold, godamn it was so cold! And nothing I could do would keep me warm. There was no sound, nothing to see but the grey all around me. And I was alone. It felt… it felt just like everyday, except that here I really was alone." He paused. "I remember a bright light," he harumphed. "Yeah, a bright white light, but it was warm and sweet and gentle. But it never stayed long. It was like someone pulled it back, took it away from me. And I was alone again." Sara sat beside him, unaware of the tears that had begun to roll down her cheek at his words. He spoke while looking away, his eyes lost in that time. He raised his head, as though looking at something above them, maybe a memory of that light. "And then came the sweetest sound of all: your voice. It came to me like I was under water, far away and garbled. There were no words, only your voice." His eyes searched the air, seeing where he had been. "It would come and then it would leave, but when it was there I felt like… I felt good, and alive. In a way I hadn't felt in such a long time. And I realized I wanted to hear your voice all the time. I never wanted to be in a place where I couldn't hear you," he turned to look at Sara, his own eyes shiny and pink with unshed tears. "where I couldn't see you, or touch you, or hold you or be with you." Sara tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "And then the strangest thing, the only thing that told me that I was really still alive… my hand started to burn and itch and sting," he held up his right hand. "it was painful but really good kind of pain, you know? If I could feel it then that must mean I was still alive and there was still hope. I mean, I could hear your voice like you there with me and my hand… was alive." Sara reached up and took his hand, covering it with both of hers, her thumbs rubbing his skin. Grissom looked at his hand in hers; her small thin white hands enveloping his big rough one, and his fingers curled around hers and held on, squeezing as though it were a life line. He looked back up at Sara, his eyes wider, his breathing more jagged.

Sara shrugged slightly. "I needed to feel you," she said as the tears continued to fall. "I needed to touch you, to feel your warmth, to know that you were still alive. So I held your hand all the time I was there. Praying and hoping that one day your fingers might wrap around mine and hold me too."

He tried to hold back a sob. There was so much inside him that wanted to come out, so much he wanted her to know, how much this meant to him, but even the richness of the english language had no words to describe his feelings so he merely squeezed her hand harder, wrapping his other one around hers, so they each held one another's hands. "Sara…" her name was all that would come out, but that one word carried with it such a weight of indescribable feeling, it washed over her like a wave, pulling her to him as their hands released each others and came around and held them together. Like two souls, each searching for the other, searching for a place to call home, had finally found that one place were everything felt good and right.