Hi guys. Thanks so much for the reviews. I continue to be amazed and
flattered by your kind words. Jeez, now I just sound silly. But, please
keep it coming. And, I am posting as fast as I can. To the person who
asked that I post several chapters at once, my answer is simple. I rarely
write anything ahead. I wish I did. I'm about as dyslexic as a person can
get before they have to do a brain transplant. I check and recheck each
chapter. Mistakes still happen. Anyway, enough rambling from me.
Hope you enjoy this chapter. I will post the next one in a few days. Peace.
**********************
Sara appeared somewhat peaceful he thought. Despite the small bandage on her head and some facial bruising, she looked almost serene. The various machines that beeped and tracked her vital signs were the only sounds in the room. Warrick traced the IV lines idly as he cleared his throat. One hand still had a nervous grip on the metal railing of the bed.
"Hey, Sara. You ready need to do something about this situation. I could use about two days of sound sleep and I can't do that with you unconscious. Just not possible. I guess you grew on me, huh? I'm pretty sure I speak for the rest of the team on that one. Well, except Griss. I think he's always known how special you are."
He took a deep breath and Catherine stepped forward and placed her hand over his. Speaking to Sara was harder than he'd even imagined. He felt like his soul was bared.
"People are still out there killing each other. Greg and Nick are gonna stop by later. You're really putting us through the wringer, Sidle. You need to wake your ass up," Warrick whispered before bending down to lightly brush his lips against her forehead."
"I'm siding with Warrick on this one," Catherine spoke. "We need you to wake up. Lindsey can't wait to see you and I know you can't wait to see Grissom." Catherine felt her emotions well up and paused to compose herself. "He's all right, you know. Just worried."
She moved forward to smooth Sara's hair. "Please, don't make him worry much longer. I don't think he can take it."
Warrick wrapped his arm around Catherine and they walked from the room.
****************
Eighteen hours later
Catherine and Brass stood just outside Grissom's room. He'd been moved from ICU the day before and was now in a regular room. His level of awareness had increased ten-fold. This both delighted and dismayed his friends. He had become more demanding by the hour. They were quickly discovering that Gil Grissom did not tolerate hospitals well. Especially one's in which he was a patient. The morphine pump was no more. Grissom was still in moderate physical pain that the oral medication did little to alleviate. He repeatedly refused injections of anything stronger.
Grissom wanted to see Sara. This was made abundantly clear to every doctor, nurse, friend and orderly that entered the room. Dr. Lesky had come in to examine Grissom and the two CSI's had stepped out. They didn't have to strain hard to hear the conversation between patient and doctor. Grissom was adamant. The doctor was frustrated. Outside the door, Catherine and Brass shared a smile.
"I can't say this is unexpected," Brass laughed.
"Me either. I'm just waiting for Lesky to realize he's fighting a losing battle."
The voices coming from the room were suddenly quiet. The doctor exited and stopped beside Catherine and Brass. His usual professional demeanor in dealing with patients had just been sorely tested.
"That man, your friend," he added and pointed a mildly accusing finger at Jim and Catherine, "does not seem to realize he's recovering from a gunshot wound. Just because he can walk to the bathroom, with assistance I might add, does not mean he's ready to be discharged."
"Don't sweat it, doc," Catherine attempted to calm the flustered physician. "He can be kind of intense."
"He asked me which medical school I attended and if my GPA was above 3.0."
"He just wants to see Sara," Brass interjected, "and he's frustrated.
Catherine could have sworn she heard a small growl begin to emanate from Dr. Lesky's throat.
"So, what's the decision? Can he see her?"
"Well, considering he isn't to be released for two more days, I think, for my own mental health, I'll allow it."
"Thank God," they responded in unison
"But, only in a wheelchair and only for a few minutes at a time." The still flummoxed doctor turned on his heel and walk quickly down the hall, shaking his head the entire way.
Brass and Catherine returned to Grissom's room to find him sitting up, his feet dangling over the side of the bed.
"Gil, what the hell are you doing? Get back in bed," Catherine chastised.
"I want the pajamas you bought me. I'm sick of this damned gown."
I'll get them," she replied, grabbing a shopping bag off the table against the wall. "I even washed them so they'd be soft."
"Cath, just give me the damn clothes."
She smiled sweetly at him as she pulled a pile of flannel from the bag and placed it beside Grissom. Absently, he grabbed for the pants and begun to put them on. A sudden groan escaped his lips.
"You ok, Gil?" Brass asked.
"I'm fine," came the clipped reply. "Catherine, of what I'm certain was the veritable plethora of designs the store offered, why did you get me penguins?"
Brass choked back a laugh as he took notice of the pajamas.
"Not just penguins, Gil," Catherine pointed to the fabric. "Ice skating penguins."
The CSI took a closer look and did indeed notice that the penguins all wore tiny ice skates. "Jesus," he sighed.
"Oh, come on. It was the only pattern left in flannel and I didn't want you to be cold."
Grissom raised an accusing eyebrow. "No, Catherine. You bought me penguins on purpose."
"Well, it could be worse," she laughed. I might have bought you penguins on porpoises."
A slow smile spread across Grissom's face. "Ok, that was about the worst attempt at a joke I've ever heard. Just bad, on so many levels." He paused, the smile still playing on his lips. "Thank you."
She smiled back at him. "Listen, Gil, the doc says you can see Sara, but only if you use a wheelchair, ok?"
He nodded and cast his eyes downward. The levity had been all too brief. Reality once again settled upon them.
"I'll go make arrangements while Jim helps you change into your jammies."
Catherine left and Brass turned back to Grissom. "Ok, bud, let's get your penguin jammies on."
Grissom fixed the man with a near lethal stare. "Jim, when Cath says 'jammies,' it's annoying. When you say 'jammies,' it's just plain frightening."
"Oh yeah, you're definitely feeling better," the cop sighed.
***********************
Greg stood back from Sara's bed. His expression was a mix of fright and discomfort. He had caught a ride to the hospital with Nick and was now regretting it. The uneasy feeling had been churning in his stomach since they'd come in the room, a few minutes earlier.
Nick spent his time quietly talking to Sara. Pausing, he turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at the young man behind him.
"She's not gonna bite, Greg."
"I know. This just isn't what I expected. This isn't Sara."
Nick returned his gaze to the woman with which he had formed such a close friendship over the past three years. "Don't listen to him, Sara. Greg's just a little freaked out by hospitals. We all miss you, sweetie. Hurry and wake up so Greg has someone else besides me to torment." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Nick patted Greg on the shoulder and walked out the door. Greg took a deep breath. "Come back, Sara." He gave her a final glance and followed Nick into the hallway.
Brass was pushing Grissom in a wheelchair and the CSI looked decidedly unhappy about it.
"Hey, Boss, Nick greeted Grissom with a smile. "You're lookin' better, man. And," nodding at Brass, "looks like you got yourself a chauffeur."
"Funny, Nick," Grissom smirked.
"Any change?" Brass motioned toward Sara's door.
Nick looked at Grissom, whose eyes were now avoiding his. "Uh, same, I think. Anyway, Greg and me should be going. We'll stop by to see you tomorrow, Griss."
"Yeah, thanks, guys." the injured CSI glanced up at Greg and Nick.
The two younger men nodded goodbye to Brass and turned to leave.
Jim could swear he heard the word 'penguins' pass between the two as they walked away.
"You ready to go in, Gil?"
It was more than a few seconds before Grissom responded.
"Jim, just push me right inside the door and I'll take it from there."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Ok." Brass did as instructed and left Grissom sitting just inside the doorway to Sara's room. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, Gil. I'm gonna grab some coffee. Use the button in there if you need anything before that."
Grissom nodded absently, not having heard half of what Brass said to him. He stared into the shadows, afraid to move forward. The eager anticipation of seeing Sara had been tempered by a numbing fear that he wouldn't be able to handle what he saw. Sure, Catherine and Brass had tried to prepare him. He knew she was breathing on her own. He knew her chest and abdomen were bandaged from the surgery. He knew there would be IV lines and monitors. What he didn't know was how he could stand seeing her like that. Would he cry? Would he even be able to look at her face? Would he just sit and stare?
Grissom shook himself from the obsessive thoughts. He could do this. He had to do this. Sara was unconscious and she needed him. He needed her. As he sat in the wheelchair, the urge to be near her and touch her skin overwhelmed him. Grissom had promised himself that he would walk into her room. It was silly and irrational, but still something he would not give up. He felt so out of control and being able to walk brought some of that back to him. His shoulder ached as he reached downward and flipped the brakes on the wheelchair. Slowly, pushing himself to his feet, he gained his balance and walked unsteadily into the room.
Grissom's breath caught as he took in Sara. It was her. Damn, it was her. He leaned heavily upon the bed rail as he scanned the face he knew all too well. The smile that kept him up at nights was, of course, nowhere to be seen. Her mouth was relaxed, but her left cheek was still marked with bruises. He was with Sara. She was bruised and bandaged, but he was with her. Slowly he surveyed her body and his mind snapped back briefly to the hell of Dunn's apartment.
Grissom managed to pull the chair beside her bed closer, until it butted against the bed frame. He sat down and leaned forward to reach for her exposed hand. It was warm as he circled his thumb over the soft skin.
"I'm here, Sara."
TBC
Hope you enjoy this chapter. I will post the next one in a few days. Peace.
**********************
Sara appeared somewhat peaceful he thought. Despite the small bandage on her head and some facial bruising, she looked almost serene. The various machines that beeped and tracked her vital signs were the only sounds in the room. Warrick traced the IV lines idly as he cleared his throat. One hand still had a nervous grip on the metal railing of the bed.
"Hey, Sara. You ready need to do something about this situation. I could use about two days of sound sleep and I can't do that with you unconscious. Just not possible. I guess you grew on me, huh? I'm pretty sure I speak for the rest of the team on that one. Well, except Griss. I think he's always known how special you are."
He took a deep breath and Catherine stepped forward and placed her hand over his. Speaking to Sara was harder than he'd even imagined. He felt like his soul was bared.
"People are still out there killing each other. Greg and Nick are gonna stop by later. You're really putting us through the wringer, Sidle. You need to wake your ass up," Warrick whispered before bending down to lightly brush his lips against her forehead."
"I'm siding with Warrick on this one," Catherine spoke. "We need you to wake up. Lindsey can't wait to see you and I know you can't wait to see Grissom." Catherine felt her emotions well up and paused to compose herself. "He's all right, you know. Just worried."
She moved forward to smooth Sara's hair. "Please, don't make him worry much longer. I don't think he can take it."
Warrick wrapped his arm around Catherine and they walked from the room.
****************
Eighteen hours later
Catherine and Brass stood just outside Grissom's room. He'd been moved from ICU the day before and was now in a regular room. His level of awareness had increased ten-fold. This both delighted and dismayed his friends. He had become more demanding by the hour. They were quickly discovering that Gil Grissom did not tolerate hospitals well. Especially one's in which he was a patient. The morphine pump was no more. Grissom was still in moderate physical pain that the oral medication did little to alleviate. He repeatedly refused injections of anything stronger.
Grissom wanted to see Sara. This was made abundantly clear to every doctor, nurse, friend and orderly that entered the room. Dr. Lesky had come in to examine Grissom and the two CSI's had stepped out. They didn't have to strain hard to hear the conversation between patient and doctor. Grissom was adamant. The doctor was frustrated. Outside the door, Catherine and Brass shared a smile.
"I can't say this is unexpected," Brass laughed.
"Me either. I'm just waiting for Lesky to realize he's fighting a losing battle."
The voices coming from the room were suddenly quiet. The doctor exited and stopped beside Catherine and Brass. His usual professional demeanor in dealing with patients had just been sorely tested.
"That man, your friend," he added and pointed a mildly accusing finger at Jim and Catherine, "does not seem to realize he's recovering from a gunshot wound. Just because he can walk to the bathroom, with assistance I might add, does not mean he's ready to be discharged."
"Don't sweat it, doc," Catherine attempted to calm the flustered physician. "He can be kind of intense."
"He asked me which medical school I attended and if my GPA was above 3.0."
"He just wants to see Sara," Brass interjected, "and he's frustrated.
Catherine could have sworn she heard a small growl begin to emanate from Dr. Lesky's throat.
"So, what's the decision? Can he see her?"
"Well, considering he isn't to be released for two more days, I think, for my own mental health, I'll allow it."
"Thank God," they responded in unison
"But, only in a wheelchair and only for a few minutes at a time." The still flummoxed doctor turned on his heel and walk quickly down the hall, shaking his head the entire way.
Brass and Catherine returned to Grissom's room to find him sitting up, his feet dangling over the side of the bed.
"Gil, what the hell are you doing? Get back in bed," Catherine chastised.
"I want the pajamas you bought me. I'm sick of this damned gown."
I'll get them," she replied, grabbing a shopping bag off the table against the wall. "I even washed them so they'd be soft."
"Cath, just give me the damn clothes."
She smiled sweetly at him as she pulled a pile of flannel from the bag and placed it beside Grissom. Absently, he grabbed for the pants and begun to put them on. A sudden groan escaped his lips.
"You ok, Gil?" Brass asked.
"I'm fine," came the clipped reply. "Catherine, of what I'm certain was the veritable plethora of designs the store offered, why did you get me penguins?"
Brass choked back a laugh as he took notice of the pajamas.
"Not just penguins, Gil," Catherine pointed to the fabric. "Ice skating penguins."
The CSI took a closer look and did indeed notice that the penguins all wore tiny ice skates. "Jesus," he sighed.
"Oh, come on. It was the only pattern left in flannel and I didn't want you to be cold."
Grissom raised an accusing eyebrow. "No, Catherine. You bought me penguins on purpose."
"Well, it could be worse," she laughed. I might have bought you penguins on porpoises."
A slow smile spread across Grissom's face. "Ok, that was about the worst attempt at a joke I've ever heard. Just bad, on so many levels." He paused, the smile still playing on his lips. "Thank you."
She smiled back at him. "Listen, Gil, the doc says you can see Sara, but only if you use a wheelchair, ok?"
He nodded and cast his eyes downward. The levity had been all too brief. Reality once again settled upon them.
"I'll go make arrangements while Jim helps you change into your jammies."
Catherine left and Brass turned back to Grissom. "Ok, bud, let's get your penguin jammies on."
Grissom fixed the man with a near lethal stare. "Jim, when Cath says 'jammies,' it's annoying. When you say 'jammies,' it's just plain frightening."
"Oh yeah, you're definitely feeling better," the cop sighed.
***********************
Greg stood back from Sara's bed. His expression was a mix of fright and discomfort. He had caught a ride to the hospital with Nick and was now regretting it. The uneasy feeling had been churning in his stomach since they'd come in the room, a few minutes earlier.
Nick spent his time quietly talking to Sara. Pausing, he turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at the young man behind him.
"She's not gonna bite, Greg."
"I know. This just isn't what I expected. This isn't Sara."
Nick returned his gaze to the woman with which he had formed such a close friendship over the past three years. "Don't listen to him, Sara. Greg's just a little freaked out by hospitals. We all miss you, sweetie. Hurry and wake up so Greg has someone else besides me to torment." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Nick patted Greg on the shoulder and walked out the door. Greg took a deep breath. "Come back, Sara." He gave her a final glance and followed Nick into the hallway.
Brass was pushing Grissom in a wheelchair and the CSI looked decidedly unhappy about it.
"Hey, Boss, Nick greeted Grissom with a smile. "You're lookin' better, man. And," nodding at Brass, "looks like you got yourself a chauffeur."
"Funny, Nick," Grissom smirked.
"Any change?" Brass motioned toward Sara's door.
Nick looked at Grissom, whose eyes were now avoiding his. "Uh, same, I think. Anyway, Greg and me should be going. We'll stop by to see you tomorrow, Griss."
"Yeah, thanks, guys." the injured CSI glanced up at Greg and Nick.
The two younger men nodded goodbye to Brass and turned to leave.
Jim could swear he heard the word 'penguins' pass between the two as they walked away.
"You ready to go in, Gil?"
It was more than a few seconds before Grissom responded.
"Jim, just push me right inside the door and I'll take it from there."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Ok." Brass did as instructed and left Grissom sitting just inside the doorway to Sara's room. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes, Gil. I'm gonna grab some coffee. Use the button in there if you need anything before that."
Grissom nodded absently, not having heard half of what Brass said to him. He stared into the shadows, afraid to move forward. The eager anticipation of seeing Sara had been tempered by a numbing fear that he wouldn't be able to handle what he saw. Sure, Catherine and Brass had tried to prepare him. He knew she was breathing on her own. He knew her chest and abdomen were bandaged from the surgery. He knew there would be IV lines and monitors. What he didn't know was how he could stand seeing her like that. Would he cry? Would he even be able to look at her face? Would he just sit and stare?
Grissom shook himself from the obsessive thoughts. He could do this. He had to do this. Sara was unconscious and she needed him. He needed her. As he sat in the wheelchair, the urge to be near her and touch her skin overwhelmed him. Grissom had promised himself that he would walk into her room. It was silly and irrational, but still something he would not give up. He felt so out of control and being able to walk brought some of that back to him. His shoulder ached as he reached downward and flipped the brakes on the wheelchair. Slowly, pushing himself to his feet, he gained his balance and walked unsteadily into the room.
Grissom's breath caught as he took in Sara. It was her. Damn, it was her. He leaned heavily upon the bed rail as he scanned the face he knew all too well. The smile that kept him up at nights was, of course, nowhere to be seen. Her mouth was relaxed, but her left cheek was still marked with bruises. He was with Sara. She was bruised and bandaged, but he was with her. Slowly he surveyed her body and his mind snapped back briefly to the hell of Dunn's apartment.
Grissom managed to pull the chair beside her bed closer, until it butted against the bed frame. He sat down and leaned forward to reach for her exposed hand. It was warm as he circled his thumb over the soft skin.
"I'm here, Sara."
TBC