Hi guys. Thanks for the reviews. You rock. This is a bit longer than
usual, mainly because I had a bit more time than usual. Let me know what
you think. Enjoy. Peace.
******************
Grissom had thought about this moment many times over the past two days. He wanted to talk to her. He had things to say. In his many ruminations, it was always difficult. Now, sitting beside her still form, his hand enveloping hers, talking to her felt natural.
"Sara, I need to say some things to you. First, I'd really like for you to wake up. I know you were tired and needed to sleep, but now you're just scaring me. And, trust me on this, I've been scared enough in the past week to last a lifetime."
Sighing deeply, he scooted the chair even closer so he could relax into it while still holding her hand.
"Catherine told me about your brain scan. The doctors classified it as inconclusive. It appears that they won't know if something is amiss until you come around. I never go on gut instincts, Sara, but this time I have to. My gut tells me that there's nothing wrong with your brain. Because, there can't be. It just, and I know this sounds childish, but it just wouldn't be right."
Grissom tried to get more comfortable as his shoulder gave a sudden throb. A wave of sadness swept over him. Well, geez, what did you expect, he chided himself. You finally get to talk to Sara and you thought she'd miraculously awake at the sound of your voice? Grissom actually chuckled aloud.
Continuing to laugh softly, he addressed her again. "My other thought is that maybe you're subconsciously still harboring resentment toward me for having pushed you away for so long. And, being the stubborn woman that you are, somehow willed yourself into a coma in order to hurt me. Granted, I came up with this theory while still on a morphine pump and, quite delusional, I might add. He stopped laughing suddenly.
"Well, Sara, it worked. You're hurting me. Can we just call it even now and you can wake up and laugh at me for being so gullible as to fall for the old 'girlfriend in a coma' ploy." Or, you can just wake up and hit me for being so presumptuous as to call you my 'girlfriend.' Once again a small laugh escaped his lips. He couldn't really say why. With startling swiftness though, his body was wracked with sobs. Noiseless convulsions of grief poured forth as tears flowed freely. And for once in his life, Gil Grissom did nothing to stop them. Minutes passed as he sat gripping Sara's hand and let the wordless emotion take over his body. Finally, the sobs became less frequent and the tears stopped coming. Taking several deep breaths, he placed Sara's hand on the bed and eased himself out of the chair. For the hundredth time he silently cursed the sling on his left arm that kept his shoulder immobile. Leaning over her, he ran his fingers gently across the side of her face, pausing briefly to savor the feel of her soft skin.
"You know, we've got a lot to talk about. And, believe it or not, I'm actually looking forward to it. Don't let that shock you too badly. Also, I think I remember promising to cook you dinner for our first date. Um, you never did say whether you like Fettuccini Alfredo? Not to worry, I'm adaptable. However, I must admit to rethinking the garlic bread. The whole breath issue and all. Again, maybe I'm being presumptuous."
His hand grazed over the bandage on her head and his fingertips found themselves entwined in her hair. Grissom bent down and brought his lips to hers, lingering, almost unwilling to break the contact. After a few seconds he pulled back slightly and moved his mouth to her ear.
"Don't leave me, Sara. Please, don't leave me."
Standing upright, he smoothed her hair one last time, then returned his hand to stroke the tops of her fingers.
"I'll be back in a few hours, ok? If you're awake, you'll get to see these horrible penguin pajamas that Catherine's making me wear."
From the doorway, Brass cleared his throat and Grissom turned toward him.
"You ready to go back, Gil?"
Grissom nodded and slowly broke physical contact with Sara. He paused briefly, and then turned from her.
Jim made a move to push the wheelchair toward him, but Grissom shook his head. Slowly he made his way over to the chair and took a seat.
"God, you're stubborn," Brass sighed.
********************
The next two days passed quickly, with the team making rounds in and out of the hospital, visiting their colleagues. Much to the frustration of her doctors, friends and Grissom, Sara remained unresponsive, though the surgical wounds were healing and she'd been moved out of intensive care. He visited her as allowed and was never at a loss for words when at her bedside. The same could not be said of him when he returned to his room. Grissom seemed to be isolating himself from everyone but Sara. He was quick to anger and appeared quite restless. Catherine noticed the mood swings and finally decided to broach the issue.
"You're not yourself, Gil. What's up? she asked point blank while packing his belongings in a small overnight bag. He was being discharged and had been about to step into the bathroom to change clothes.
"I just want to go home, Catherine."
"You're withdrawing. You haven't wanted visitors. Christ, Grissom, you barely said two words to Nick and Warrick yesterday."
She heard the bathroom door close, but just spoke louder.
"Gil, you, of all people, know that it's perfectly normal to go through a period of adjustment after a traumatic event."
"Cath, I'm not having this conversation with you. And why couldn't you just bring me a pair of jeans like I asked you too?"
"Cause I was in a hurry and grabbed the first clothes I saw. The point is, Gil, don't shut out the people who want to help.
Grissom emerged in black pants and a blue, short-sleeved polo shirt. He simply cocked his head at her, looked away and stuffed his pajamas into the bag along with the arm sling he'd worn for the past four days.
"Have it your way for now, but I'm not letting this drop for long. I can't believe you're keeping the pajamas," she said, choosing to ignore the fact that he was supposed to be wearing the sling. "I thought for sure they were headed for the garbage."
She picked up the overnight bag. "Do you have your discharge papers and prescriptions?"
"Yes, now let's go before some idiot shows up with a wheelchair and says it's against hospital policy for me to walk out."
"I've been called worse." They both turned to see a grinning Jim Brass pushing a wheelchair into the room. "An orderly was on his way down with this. Hospital orders."
"No." Grissom was adamant.
"Come on, Gil, get in the damn chair so we can go." Catherine was quickly losing patience.
Without as much as a glance at either of them, Grissom grabbed the bag from Catherine and pushed his way past Brass. "I'll get a cab."
Catherine made a move to go after him, but Jim grabbed her arm. "Give him a couple minutes."
She smiled smugly. "But in a couple of minutes I won't still want to smack him."
"My point exactly," Brass returned her smile. "Don't worry, we'll catch him by the time he gets to the parking lot."
"Don't you ever get pissed, Jim?"
"Sure, but you have this tremendous calming influence on me."
"Oh really?"
"Absolutely. In fact, we should sit down and talk about it sometime."
She raised an eyebrow at him as his hand on her back urged her out the door.
***************************
Grissom reached the parking lot, after stopping one or two times to lean against an especially appealing wall. Ok, he thought, the wheelchair would probably have been a good idea. Cab. Right, call a cab. Grissom cursed silently when he realized he no longer had his cell phone. Suddenly tired he dropped his bag, leaned back against the bus stand and closed his eyes.
"Takes a lot of energy to be that stubborn, Griss." Catherine paused beside her friend. "You all right, or should we check you back in?"
"Touché," he sighed.
"I guess that'll have to do for an apology," Brass shrugged.
"Look, I'm sorry for my behavior upstairs. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Taken what out on us, Gil?" Catherine pushed.
"Nothing, forget it."
"Grissom," Brass spoke up, it's ok to say you're angry and frustrated. We've known you're human for quite some time now."
"Frustrated? Grissom raised his voice. You have no idea." He paused and massaged his forehead. "She's, she's just not listening to me. Do you understand that? Sara's not waking up. She's not. And, I swear, I feel like going home and shutting my door and never coming out again, because I'm not fucking helping her! Nothing I say or do is helping her!"
"So this is all about how bad you're feeling?" Catherine said flatly.
"Damnit, that's not what I mean and you know it." I, I think about how she tried to protect me when Dunn had us and I'm angry. I'm angry with her for telling me she loves me and then winding up lying in a hospital bed for maybe the rest of her life! And I'm angry with myself. I told Sara I loved her and then I couldn't even protect her!"
Brass and Catherine were mildly stunned.
Grissom's continued, his tone much lower. "If two people love each other, neither of them should be allowed to get hurt or sick or die. Especially not Sara." He paused. "I know that doesn't make sense, but it did at three a.m. when I thought of it."
"I'm sorry, Gil," Catherine spoke softly. "I don't think we realized the two of you actually had a chance to express feelings for one another."
"I just want to go home, grab a shower and come back to be with Sara."
"Well, don't get all bent again, but Jim and I might make you add a nap and a decent meal to that list," Catherine smiled.
Grissom frowned and started to open his mouth.
"Oh, poor Gil Grissom," Catherine laughed. He has friends who actually love him and care about his well being."
"Speak for yourself," Jim smirked. "It's all I can do to tolerate him sometimes."
Catherine rolled her eyes at the cop. "Whatever, Mr. Insensitive."
"So, Gil," Brass spoke up, "what kind of pain meds did the doc give you anyway?"
"Vicodin, why?"
Brass Grinned. "No reason. Hang tight. Cath and I will bring the car around."
Grissom gave them a curious stare and nodded.
"He just said more in five minutes than he has in five years," Jim whispered to her as they walked away.
"Well, I don't think it's the medication. It's been like pulling teeth to get him to take it. Nope, I think Gil Grissom just realized he is completely in love for maybe the first time in his life."
"You really don't think I'm insensitive, do you Catherine?"
**************************
THREE HOURS LATER
Nick and Greg had been in Sara's room for all of a minute and the younger man was already jittery.
"Jeez, Greg, if being here freaks you out that much, go wait in the hall for me."
"No, I wanna be here. It's still kinda creepy is all." He allowed his eyes to focus on Sara's face.
Nick turned toward Greg. "Look, it's probably not doing her any good to hear us saying 'creepy' and 'freaky' every other sentence." He watched as Greg's face suddenly drained of color.
"What? You better not be getting ready to puke," Nick drawled. Greg pointed to the bed and Nick turned to find himself staring into Sara's brown eyes. Her slowly blinking and not entirely focused brown eyes.
"Sara? Sara? Greg, go get a doctor!"
Nick reached for her hand and smiled at her. "Can you say something for me, Sara? Maybe give me a smile?"
Getting no response, Nick's gripped her hand even tighter. Sara continued to blink her eyelids and had yet to look at him directly.
A doctor and two nurses hurried into the room.
"She hasn't said anything," Nick offered.
The doctor turned to the CSI. "Sir, you need to leave the room."
Nick backed up toward the doorway where Greg stood. They listened to the quick back and forth between the doctor and nurses.
"Has the neurologist on call been paged?"
"On his way up."
"Pressures 110 over 80."
"Ms. Sidle, can you hear me?" Ms. Sidle?"
Another doctor pushed past Nick and Greg.
Nick pulled out his cell phone. "C'mon, Greggo, let's go outside. I've got a call to make. Smile, man, she opened her eyes."
"Yeah, she did." Greg allowed a small grin to play on his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew that Nick was just trying to be optimistic. What went unsaid between either of them was the prospect of brain damage.
**************************
Grissom had been sleeping soundly for the past two hours. Catherine sat on his bed and gently shook his arm. "Gil?"
His eyes sprung open and after a few seconds he realized where he was. Home, in his bed. What was Catherine doing here? Sara, he thought.
"What is it, Cath?" Before she could answer he bolted upright and growled as pain shot through his shoulder and collarbone.
"Easy, Gil."
"Sara's awake, isn't she?"
"How'd you know that?"
"I just had a dream," he replied, reaching for the clean clothes he'd laid out on the bed earlier.
"She opened her eyes. Nick just called." Catherine looked slightly puzzled. "You had a dream?"
"Yeah. Is she talking?"
"Well, Nick said she didn't say anything to him. The doctors made him leave. They're running a bunch of tests."
Grissom's face creased with concern. "We need to get to the hospital. Will you, um, excuse me while I get dressed?"
"Oh, sure." She paused at the door. "Listen, Gil, all we know is that she opened her eyes. This could still be a long road."
"Point taken. Now please close the door."
Grissom threw off the sheet and braced his shoulder. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he began to pull on his pants. He simply couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across his face.
*************************
Exactly thirty-two minutes later, Grissom and Catherine reached the nurses' station on Sara's floor. Grissom knew it was thirty-two minutes, because he had glanced at his watch every time he'd felt himself starting to panic. Every time he became afraid of what the doctors would tell him.
Nick and Greg hurried over when they saw the two.
"You heard anything, Nick?" Grissom wasted no time with pleasantries.
"Not yet. Her neurologist has been in there for about a half-hour or so. The nurse said he'd come talk to us after the exam."
"Thanks, Nicky," Grissom replied absently as he walked toward Sara's door.
"Gil?" Catherine called after him. "You need to wait out here."
It became a moot point as Sara's doctor and a nurse emerged from her room.
"How is she?" Grissom asked, attempting to read their faces.
Nick, Catherine and Greg quickly gathered around.
"Ms. Sidle has regained consciousness. I've conducted a basic neurological exam and the findings appear to be normal, but -"
Various sighs and exclamations were heard. Grissom held up his hand to silence the team and allow the doctor to continue.
"As I was saying, initial findings are normal. Ms. Sidle, however, continues to be somewhat disoriented. All things considered, I'm fairly confident the condition is temporary. We'll continue testing her basic neurological function every couple of hours."
The doctor looked directly at Grissom. "She bucked the odds here. I'm glad I had some good news for you."
"Thank you," the CSI replied.
"Mr. Grissom, I'm not going to tell you that you can't see her. In fact it might help." He looked at the others. "Sorry, but until she's more oriented, I don't want her seeing more than one familiar face. It could be too confusing."
"I'll be in the waiting room, Gil."
"Thank you, Catherine," Grissom replied as he slowly pushed open the door and walked into Sara's room.
The curtains were partially open giving the space minimal illumination. Grissom adjusted his eyes to the dimness and approached Sara's bed. His heart seemed to skip a beat as she appeared much as she had when he'd visited that morning. Her eyes were closed. He walked closer.
"Sara?"
Slowly, her eyelids opened and she peered up at him. Grissom smiled at her and Sara's lips curled upward, giving him a smaller version of the smile that was his alone.
"Grissom."
Her voice was shaky and hoarse, but he was quite certain he'd never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. He reached for her hand, but instead of finding it, he felt a soft pull on the knee of his blue jeans. Her smile broadened as she released his jeans and took his hand. Grissom intertwined his fingers with hers as he looked into her eyes, sensing a question.
"Yeah, Sara, I remembered."
TBC
******************
Grissom had thought about this moment many times over the past two days. He wanted to talk to her. He had things to say. In his many ruminations, it was always difficult. Now, sitting beside her still form, his hand enveloping hers, talking to her felt natural.
"Sara, I need to say some things to you. First, I'd really like for you to wake up. I know you were tired and needed to sleep, but now you're just scaring me. And, trust me on this, I've been scared enough in the past week to last a lifetime."
Sighing deeply, he scooted the chair even closer so he could relax into it while still holding her hand.
"Catherine told me about your brain scan. The doctors classified it as inconclusive. It appears that they won't know if something is amiss until you come around. I never go on gut instincts, Sara, but this time I have to. My gut tells me that there's nothing wrong with your brain. Because, there can't be. It just, and I know this sounds childish, but it just wouldn't be right."
Grissom tried to get more comfortable as his shoulder gave a sudden throb. A wave of sadness swept over him. Well, geez, what did you expect, he chided himself. You finally get to talk to Sara and you thought she'd miraculously awake at the sound of your voice? Grissom actually chuckled aloud.
Continuing to laugh softly, he addressed her again. "My other thought is that maybe you're subconsciously still harboring resentment toward me for having pushed you away for so long. And, being the stubborn woman that you are, somehow willed yourself into a coma in order to hurt me. Granted, I came up with this theory while still on a morphine pump and, quite delusional, I might add. He stopped laughing suddenly.
"Well, Sara, it worked. You're hurting me. Can we just call it even now and you can wake up and laugh at me for being so gullible as to fall for the old 'girlfriend in a coma' ploy." Or, you can just wake up and hit me for being so presumptuous as to call you my 'girlfriend.' Once again a small laugh escaped his lips. He couldn't really say why. With startling swiftness though, his body was wracked with sobs. Noiseless convulsions of grief poured forth as tears flowed freely. And for once in his life, Gil Grissom did nothing to stop them. Minutes passed as he sat gripping Sara's hand and let the wordless emotion take over his body. Finally, the sobs became less frequent and the tears stopped coming. Taking several deep breaths, he placed Sara's hand on the bed and eased himself out of the chair. For the hundredth time he silently cursed the sling on his left arm that kept his shoulder immobile. Leaning over her, he ran his fingers gently across the side of her face, pausing briefly to savor the feel of her soft skin.
"You know, we've got a lot to talk about. And, believe it or not, I'm actually looking forward to it. Don't let that shock you too badly. Also, I think I remember promising to cook you dinner for our first date. Um, you never did say whether you like Fettuccini Alfredo? Not to worry, I'm adaptable. However, I must admit to rethinking the garlic bread. The whole breath issue and all. Again, maybe I'm being presumptuous."
His hand grazed over the bandage on her head and his fingertips found themselves entwined in her hair. Grissom bent down and brought his lips to hers, lingering, almost unwilling to break the contact. After a few seconds he pulled back slightly and moved his mouth to her ear.
"Don't leave me, Sara. Please, don't leave me."
Standing upright, he smoothed her hair one last time, then returned his hand to stroke the tops of her fingers.
"I'll be back in a few hours, ok? If you're awake, you'll get to see these horrible penguin pajamas that Catherine's making me wear."
From the doorway, Brass cleared his throat and Grissom turned toward him.
"You ready to go back, Gil?"
Grissom nodded and slowly broke physical contact with Sara. He paused briefly, and then turned from her.
Jim made a move to push the wheelchair toward him, but Grissom shook his head. Slowly he made his way over to the chair and took a seat.
"God, you're stubborn," Brass sighed.
********************
The next two days passed quickly, with the team making rounds in and out of the hospital, visiting their colleagues. Much to the frustration of her doctors, friends and Grissom, Sara remained unresponsive, though the surgical wounds were healing and she'd been moved out of intensive care. He visited her as allowed and was never at a loss for words when at her bedside. The same could not be said of him when he returned to his room. Grissom seemed to be isolating himself from everyone but Sara. He was quick to anger and appeared quite restless. Catherine noticed the mood swings and finally decided to broach the issue.
"You're not yourself, Gil. What's up? she asked point blank while packing his belongings in a small overnight bag. He was being discharged and had been about to step into the bathroom to change clothes.
"I just want to go home, Catherine."
"You're withdrawing. You haven't wanted visitors. Christ, Grissom, you barely said two words to Nick and Warrick yesterday."
She heard the bathroom door close, but just spoke louder.
"Gil, you, of all people, know that it's perfectly normal to go through a period of adjustment after a traumatic event."
"Cath, I'm not having this conversation with you. And why couldn't you just bring me a pair of jeans like I asked you too?"
"Cause I was in a hurry and grabbed the first clothes I saw. The point is, Gil, don't shut out the people who want to help.
Grissom emerged in black pants and a blue, short-sleeved polo shirt. He simply cocked his head at her, looked away and stuffed his pajamas into the bag along with the arm sling he'd worn for the past four days.
"Have it your way for now, but I'm not letting this drop for long. I can't believe you're keeping the pajamas," she said, choosing to ignore the fact that he was supposed to be wearing the sling. "I thought for sure they were headed for the garbage."
She picked up the overnight bag. "Do you have your discharge papers and prescriptions?"
"Yes, now let's go before some idiot shows up with a wheelchair and says it's against hospital policy for me to walk out."
"I've been called worse." They both turned to see a grinning Jim Brass pushing a wheelchair into the room. "An orderly was on his way down with this. Hospital orders."
"No." Grissom was adamant.
"Come on, Gil, get in the damn chair so we can go." Catherine was quickly losing patience.
Without as much as a glance at either of them, Grissom grabbed the bag from Catherine and pushed his way past Brass. "I'll get a cab."
Catherine made a move to go after him, but Jim grabbed her arm. "Give him a couple minutes."
She smiled smugly. "But in a couple of minutes I won't still want to smack him."
"My point exactly," Brass returned her smile. "Don't worry, we'll catch him by the time he gets to the parking lot."
"Don't you ever get pissed, Jim?"
"Sure, but you have this tremendous calming influence on me."
"Oh really?"
"Absolutely. In fact, we should sit down and talk about it sometime."
She raised an eyebrow at him as his hand on her back urged her out the door.
***************************
Grissom reached the parking lot, after stopping one or two times to lean against an especially appealing wall. Ok, he thought, the wheelchair would probably have been a good idea. Cab. Right, call a cab. Grissom cursed silently when he realized he no longer had his cell phone. Suddenly tired he dropped his bag, leaned back against the bus stand and closed his eyes.
"Takes a lot of energy to be that stubborn, Griss." Catherine paused beside her friend. "You all right, or should we check you back in?"
"Touché," he sighed.
"I guess that'll have to do for an apology," Brass shrugged.
"Look, I'm sorry for my behavior upstairs. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Taken what out on us, Gil?" Catherine pushed.
"Nothing, forget it."
"Grissom," Brass spoke up, it's ok to say you're angry and frustrated. We've known you're human for quite some time now."
"Frustrated? Grissom raised his voice. You have no idea." He paused and massaged his forehead. "She's, she's just not listening to me. Do you understand that? Sara's not waking up. She's not. And, I swear, I feel like going home and shutting my door and never coming out again, because I'm not fucking helping her! Nothing I say or do is helping her!"
"So this is all about how bad you're feeling?" Catherine said flatly.
"Damnit, that's not what I mean and you know it." I, I think about how she tried to protect me when Dunn had us and I'm angry. I'm angry with her for telling me she loves me and then winding up lying in a hospital bed for maybe the rest of her life! And I'm angry with myself. I told Sara I loved her and then I couldn't even protect her!"
Brass and Catherine were mildly stunned.
Grissom's continued, his tone much lower. "If two people love each other, neither of them should be allowed to get hurt or sick or die. Especially not Sara." He paused. "I know that doesn't make sense, but it did at three a.m. when I thought of it."
"I'm sorry, Gil," Catherine spoke softly. "I don't think we realized the two of you actually had a chance to express feelings for one another."
"I just want to go home, grab a shower and come back to be with Sara."
"Well, don't get all bent again, but Jim and I might make you add a nap and a decent meal to that list," Catherine smiled.
Grissom frowned and started to open his mouth.
"Oh, poor Gil Grissom," Catherine laughed. He has friends who actually love him and care about his well being."
"Speak for yourself," Jim smirked. "It's all I can do to tolerate him sometimes."
Catherine rolled her eyes at the cop. "Whatever, Mr. Insensitive."
"So, Gil," Brass spoke up, "what kind of pain meds did the doc give you anyway?"
"Vicodin, why?"
Brass Grinned. "No reason. Hang tight. Cath and I will bring the car around."
Grissom gave them a curious stare and nodded.
"He just said more in five minutes than he has in five years," Jim whispered to her as they walked away.
"Well, I don't think it's the medication. It's been like pulling teeth to get him to take it. Nope, I think Gil Grissom just realized he is completely in love for maybe the first time in his life."
"You really don't think I'm insensitive, do you Catherine?"
**************************
THREE HOURS LATER
Nick and Greg had been in Sara's room for all of a minute and the younger man was already jittery.
"Jeez, Greg, if being here freaks you out that much, go wait in the hall for me."
"No, I wanna be here. It's still kinda creepy is all." He allowed his eyes to focus on Sara's face.
Nick turned toward Greg. "Look, it's probably not doing her any good to hear us saying 'creepy' and 'freaky' every other sentence." He watched as Greg's face suddenly drained of color.
"What? You better not be getting ready to puke," Nick drawled. Greg pointed to the bed and Nick turned to find himself staring into Sara's brown eyes. Her slowly blinking and not entirely focused brown eyes.
"Sara? Sara? Greg, go get a doctor!"
Nick reached for her hand and smiled at her. "Can you say something for me, Sara? Maybe give me a smile?"
Getting no response, Nick's gripped her hand even tighter. Sara continued to blink her eyelids and had yet to look at him directly.
A doctor and two nurses hurried into the room.
"She hasn't said anything," Nick offered.
The doctor turned to the CSI. "Sir, you need to leave the room."
Nick backed up toward the doorway where Greg stood. They listened to the quick back and forth between the doctor and nurses.
"Has the neurologist on call been paged?"
"On his way up."
"Pressures 110 over 80."
"Ms. Sidle, can you hear me?" Ms. Sidle?"
Another doctor pushed past Nick and Greg.
Nick pulled out his cell phone. "C'mon, Greggo, let's go outside. I've got a call to make. Smile, man, she opened her eyes."
"Yeah, she did." Greg allowed a small grin to play on his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He knew that Nick was just trying to be optimistic. What went unsaid between either of them was the prospect of brain damage.
**************************
Grissom had been sleeping soundly for the past two hours. Catherine sat on his bed and gently shook his arm. "Gil?"
His eyes sprung open and after a few seconds he realized where he was. Home, in his bed. What was Catherine doing here? Sara, he thought.
"What is it, Cath?" Before she could answer he bolted upright and growled as pain shot through his shoulder and collarbone.
"Easy, Gil."
"Sara's awake, isn't she?"
"How'd you know that?"
"I just had a dream," he replied, reaching for the clean clothes he'd laid out on the bed earlier.
"She opened her eyes. Nick just called." Catherine looked slightly puzzled. "You had a dream?"
"Yeah. Is she talking?"
"Well, Nick said she didn't say anything to him. The doctors made him leave. They're running a bunch of tests."
Grissom's face creased with concern. "We need to get to the hospital. Will you, um, excuse me while I get dressed?"
"Oh, sure." She paused at the door. "Listen, Gil, all we know is that she opened her eyes. This could still be a long road."
"Point taken. Now please close the door."
Grissom threw off the sheet and braced his shoulder. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he began to pull on his pants. He simply couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across his face.
*************************
Exactly thirty-two minutes later, Grissom and Catherine reached the nurses' station on Sara's floor. Grissom knew it was thirty-two minutes, because he had glanced at his watch every time he'd felt himself starting to panic. Every time he became afraid of what the doctors would tell him.
Nick and Greg hurried over when they saw the two.
"You heard anything, Nick?" Grissom wasted no time with pleasantries.
"Not yet. Her neurologist has been in there for about a half-hour or so. The nurse said he'd come talk to us after the exam."
"Thanks, Nicky," Grissom replied absently as he walked toward Sara's door.
"Gil?" Catherine called after him. "You need to wait out here."
It became a moot point as Sara's doctor and a nurse emerged from her room.
"How is she?" Grissom asked, attempting to read their faces.
Nick, Catherine and Greg quickly gathered around.
"Ms. Sidle has regained consciousness. I've conducted a basic neurological exam and the findings appear to be normal, but -"
Various sighs and exclamations were heard. Grissom held up his hand to silence the team and allow the doctor to continue.
"As I was saying, initial findings are normal. Ms. Sidle, however, continues to be somewhat disoriented. All things considered, I'm fairly confident the condition is temporary. We'll continue testing her basic neurological function every couple of hours."
The doctor looked directly at Grissom. "She bucked the odds here. I'm glad I had some good news for you."
"Thank you," the CSI replied.
"Mr. Grissom, I'm not going to tell you that you can't see her. In fact it might help." He looked at the others. "Sorry, but until she's more oriented, I don't want her seeing more than one familiar face. It could be too confusing."
"I'll be in the waiting room, Gil."
"Thank you, Catherine," Grissom replied as he slowly pushed open the door and walked into Sara's room.
The curtains were partially open giving the space minimal illumination. Grissom adjusted his eyes to the dimness and approached Sara's bed. His heart seemed to skip a beat as she appeared much as she had when he'd visited that morning. Her eyes were closed. He walked closer.
"Sara?"
Slowly, her eyelids opened and she peered up at him. Grissom smiled at her and Sara's lips curled upward, giving him a smaller version of the smile that was his alone.
"Grissom."
Her voice was shaky and hoarse, but he was quite certain he'd never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. He reached for her hand, but instead of finding it, he felt a soft pull on the knee of his blue jeans. Her smile broadened as she released his jeans and took his hand. Grissom intertwined his fingers with hers as he looked into her eyes, sensing a question.
"Yeah, Sara, I remembered."
TBC