Hi guys. Sorry this is late. And, I must admit, it's largely dialogue oriented. I really just wanted to post this, because I'm still working on the final stuff. Hope you like it and the last chapter (I swear) will be up soon.
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Grissom stirred in his sleep, his hand attempting to tighten around Sara's. Grasping nothing but air, his eyes opened. Briefly, not seeing her hospital bed beside him, he panicked. Right, he thought, they'd taken her downstairs for the MRI. He must have dozed off. Straightening in the chair, Grissom stretched as best he could, giving an audible groan as pain shot through his collarbone. He stood slowly and walked to the window. The lights of Las Vegas cut into the night sky. It was now more than six hours since Sara had regained consciousness. The best six hours he'd had in the past week. She had become more oriented and there continued to be no sign of neurological deficit.

The doctor hadn't objected to Grissom remaining with Sara, as his presence seemed to reassure her. Catherine had left hours ago, asking him to call if he needed a ride. Sara still hadn't said much. A few words and some halting sentences. The neurologist assured him that it was a result of fatigue and mental fog rather than an indication of any kind of lasting problem. Still, Grissom knew he'd be much more relieved when he would have to beg Sara to stop talking and get some rest.

"Hey, you?"

Grissom turned quickly at the soft, yet familiar voice. A smile lit up his face as he took in the sight of Sara. A well built, dark-haired orderly was maneuvering her bed through the door and back against the wall.

"I missed you," Grissom offered as he moved toward her.

She smiled back at him, then grinned at the young man pushing the bed into place. "Thank you, Ted.

"No problem, Sara. You take care now, honey," the orderly answered before leaving.

Grissom raised an eyebrow as he reached for her hand.

"Well, someone's a bit more talkative than the last time I saw them. Or are you only that way with Tad?"

"Ted," she grinned mischievously.

"Whatever. You want me to call Tad back here to sit with you, Sidle, because my shoulder is starting to hurt and this physical therapist, ah, what was her name? Julie, yes, that's it. She offered to give me a massage."

Sara somehow managed to keep a straight face. "Well, if she offered."

"Enough," he sighed. "I concede. It appears you are quite confident that there's no place I'd rather be than here."

"You might say that. Plus, I wouldn't want to have to physically hurt this Julie person."

"There's nothing wrong with your brain," Grissom laughed.

"God, I can't believe the fog is actually starting to lift. I swear, Griss, for the first couple of hours it seemed to take me forever to get thoughts into words. The past hour has been incredible. I'm able to speak."

"The doctor said the halting speech was perfectly normal. Don't worry."

She struggled to prop herself further up against the pillows and gave a sharp yelp of discomfort.

"Hey, easy. You can't move like that," Grissom tried to soften the edge in his voice as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes were shut against the pain and her breathing was rapid.

"Sara? You want me to get the doctor?" She didn't answer and Grissom was halfway to the door.

"Griss, I'm ok. Sorry. It just hurt a little."

He paused, debating whether or not to ignore her and get the doctor anyway.

"Really, I'm ok. I swear."

He relented and returned to her bedside. "You've had major surgery. You simply cannot do whatever you want." He rubbed her arm softly. "Better?"

"Oh yeah," she grinned. "In fact, I hear most hospitals are going to stop giving morphine in favor of arm rubbing."

Grissom blushed slightly and went back to holding her hand.

"Could you raise the back of my bed a bit? I'm getting tired of staring up at you."

"How about if I lower myself into the chair and spare your body further pain?"

She looked at him curiously as he sat down beside her. His movements were slow and deliberate.

"Grissom?"

He cocked his head as she looked into his eyes. He could see concern and apprehension clouding her face.

"I, uh, I haven't even asked how you are," she said softly.

His heart jumped into his throat as he tried to find some way to answer. This wasn't about him. He wasn't the one in a coma for most of the past week. He hadn't thought of his own pain for days. Did she have any idea of what had happened to her?

"I'm sorry, Grissom."

"Huh?" his thoughts snapped back.

"I'm sorry for being so thoughtless. I want to know how you're doing."

"How I'm doing?"

"Uh, yeah. Why is that strange?"

"I'm fine, Sara. Perfectly all right?"

"Well, your shoulder's bandaged and you can't move very well, so I know you're not exactly fine."

He paused, trying to find just the right words and inflection in order to put her mind at ease.

"Sara, I don't give a damn about my shoulder. It'll heal. You've been in a coma for longer than I care to think about. Jesus, you scared me beyond belief and you're apologizing for not asking how I am?" Grissom broke off his words when he saw the puzzlement on her face. He turned his head away. His mouth apparently hadn't cared about the right words, much less the inflection.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He met her eyes briefly and she saw a haunted look that hadn't been there before.

"Grissom?"

"You need rest, Sara. Please, close your eyes and get some sleep."

"I will. But first, tell me what happened to you. I vaguely remember the sound of a gunshot when you were struggling with Dunn." Sara inhaled sharply as she pieced together the scenario. "You were hit, weren't you?"

"A graze, that's all. I told you I'm fine. Are you going to rest anytime soon?"

She noticed his eagerness to change the subject and didn't quite know what to make of it. "Grissom, why don't you go home and get some sleep yourself? You look really tired."

"What and let Tad come back. I don't think so."

"I'm serious. Go home. You don't need to be here with me."

He looked at her as if she'd just spoken a foreign language that he couldn't begin to understand.

Both were distracted by a soft knock on the door.

"Hey, Sara," Catherine smiled. "Sorry to intrude, but I wanted to see once again that you were still back in the land of the conscious. How you doing?" She walked to the bed and noticed that Grissom seemed oddly distant.

"Good, Cath. Thanks for coming. I know I saw you earlier, but everything was still fuzzy."

"Not surprised, after what you've been through. Warrick, Nick, Brass, Greg, and jeez, everyone else in the lab sends their love."

"Thanks. That means a lot." Sara paused and looked at Grissom. "I was just trying to convince him to take his tired butt home. I know I'm about to drop off myself," she yawned.

"Couldn't agree more," Catherine answered. "I don't think he's had more than two hours sleep since he's been out of the hospital. Come on, Gil."

Grissom glared at Catherine, but she ignored it.

Sara's expression registered some acknowledgment of Catherine's statement before she began to close her eyes.

"Thanks, Cath," Sara mumbled.

"Come on, Gil, let's go."

Grissom stood, his gaze now fixed upon Sara. "Yeah, meet you in the lobby." Catherine nodded and left the room.

Leaning over Sara's bed, Grissom sighed. She looked so peaceful. Bending down, he kissed her forehead, not quite certain if she was fully asleep. Hesitating briefly, he found his voice.

"I love you, Sara."

He straightened and took several steps toward the door.

"I love you too, Griss."

Startled, he turned and looked more closely at her. Grissom saw one sleepy eye peering at him. He couldn't help but smile.

"I do remember most of what happened when we were with Dunn," she said drowsily. I'm especially glad I remember that part."

"Me too. Sleep well." He watched as the eye closed and she seemed to sink further into the pillow.

"And, since when do they hospitalize someone for a graze? You can explain that tomorrow, Griss," she mumbled sleepily.

Grissom knew he was busted as he continued to watch the brunette. Still, her words heartened him. Sara's breathing became soft and rhythmic. He reflected on what she'd said. She loved him. He hadn't quite known how to broach the subject of their emotional exchange while being held by Dunn. Grissom wasn't certain if the words were truly how she felt, or influenced more by their predicament and or the heroin.
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Brass swung by Grissom's house that morning and picked up a much more rested looking CSI. They drove to the hospital, sipping coffee as Brass filled his colleague in on the previous night's happenings at the office. It all seemed so removed from Grissom's current reality. He tried to focus, but his thoughts kept drifting.

"So, then Nick set Greg's hair on fire and the kid went up like a bottle rocket."

"Hum," Grissom mumbled. "Any leads?"

"I know you usually ignore most of what I say, but this is ridicules."

"What? Oh. Sorry, Brass. I was thinking."

Jim simply shook his head, before downing the rest of his coffee.

"What's happening with Charlie Dunn? Grissom asked evenly.

The cop gave him a quick sideways glance before answering.

"They think he'll live. You've seen the charges, Gil. The DA's Office was waiting on the last one. You know, to see how things went with--." Brass abruptly stopped, realizing he'd almost said something unintended.

"With Sara," Grissom finished for him. "I still remember how things work, Jim. Has he been transferred to County lockup yet?"

"Next week maybe. He's still in the burn unit."

The CSI nodded, crumpled his coffee cup and looked out the window.

Brass studied his friend, before realization finally dawned. "No, Grissom. You cannot see him. Absolutely not."

"I have a right to, Jim."

"That's crap and you know it. You threatened to kill the man in front of about ten witnesses."

"Come on, Brass. I was in shock. All I want is to see him. To bury this once and for all.

"Save it for court. No way are you getting within a hundred feet of that room. His lawyer would have a field day."

"Brass, I don't want to threaten him. I just want to se the SOB."

"Calling him an SOB and using the word 'bury' isn't helping your cause."

Jim pulled into a space at the hospital and turned in his seat.

"Listen, Griss, just let it go. For your sake and for Sara's."

Without looking at Brass, Grissom reached for the door handle. He stepped out and paused. "I can't." Not caring whether his words were heard, he headed into the hospital.

TBC