"I'll go get the nurse back," Grissom began.

"No, Gris, I'm fine. It's psychological pain for the most part."

"Are you reliving the explosion?"

Sara shook her head slowly. "No, I'm, uh . . . reliving the next night."

Grissom's brow furrowed. "What happened the next . . . oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'," agreed Sara.

"Sara, I'm sorry about that."

Sara turned her face away. "Forget it. I backed you into a corner, you had to just spit it out to get rid of me. I don't know," she said sadly. "Somehow I end up trying to date all the wrong men."

Grissom gently used one hand to turn her face back toward him. "Don't say that, Sara. It wasn't like that at all. I was . . . surprised. And I like to think I'm not nearly as wrong as that EMT you dated."

"I think that being totally infatuated with someone who treats me like a daughter is pretty wrong, Gris. Like I said, don't worry about it."

Grissom removed himself from the bed and stood over her, glowering. "I do not think of you as a daughter, Sara. I've told you that many times."

"And I've told you YOU many times that it doesn't matter whether the word is 'daughter' or 'protégé' or whatever, the concept is the same. You don't see me as a female."

Grissom stared. Was she nuts? Sara really didn't believe that he saw her that way, when he was lusting after her more than he'd ever lusted after any woman in his life? No, not lust, exactly, he thought. He didn't know the word for it, but it wasn't lust. He slumped down into his chair.

Sara turned her face back away and closed her eyes. I need sleep, she told herself. Re-hashing this with Grissom will just get me upset.

Grissom ran a hand through his short hair, watching as Sara closed herself off from him. He hadn't said anything wrong this time, he really hadn't. Why didn't she believe him? "Because, you idiot," said a voice in his head, "you can't undo three years of rejection with one sentence of affirmation." He knew it was true, but he didn't know how to fix it, especially now that his idiocy wasn't the only obstacle.

If he tried to convince Sara now, he would be trying to take her from a friend. The fact that the friend had taken Sara from him to begin with crossed his mind, but he knew that Nick had been right when he said that Sara had finally had enough of Grissom's denials. He'd pushed her away, and Nick had snapped her up, fair and square.

Well, "fair and square" was bullshit, he decided. Sara had wanted him, not the Texan. She had only turned to him for comfort. She couldn't love Nick. It was impossible. He refused to believe it, because if he believed it, that meant that she was truly gone from him forever.

Sara was very conscious of the thick silence in the room. Grissom's chair had creaked as he sat down five minutes ago, and he hadn't made a sound since. Was he disgusted with her again? Was he angry that she wasn't taken in by his lies? She felt anger pour through her. Why was he here with her, chasing away her friends, when he didn't really care for her beyond mild friendship?

"Grissom?" she ventured, still turned away.

"Yes, Sara," his tired voice responded. She wondered whether he was fighting the same sort of thoughts.

"I . . . think that you should leave now. You've done enough for me. You can send in Nick or Warrick to guard me. Or even Catherine."

"No."

"Why not, Grissom?" Sara asked angrily as she turned to face him again. "Why are you still here? I'm not dying. I absolve you of any and all responsibility for my hand. You can leave."

"No, Sara."

Sara pushed aside the sheets that had been covering her and stood up. "Then I'm leaving. AMA or not."

"You're not leaving either, Sara. Sit down," Grissom said emotionlessly.

"You can't stop me. I'll scream bloody murder if you manhandle me again like you did last night."

"If I hadn't 'manhandled' you last night, you'd be in severe danger of losing your hand. I did what I had to do to protect you from yourself."

She tried wheedling. "Well, 'myself' isn't dangerous anymore, okay? I have no desire to lose my hand. I'll follow the doctor's instructions."

"No, Sara. You apparently don't realize the danger that his infection presents. Do you WANT to lose part of your hand, Sara? Have you ever heard of gangrene?"

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Gil Grissom! You know I know what gangrene is, and you know I know the dangers of infection. I'm thirty-one, Grissom, not five. I can live my own life."

"You're not doing a very good job of it," he replied coldly. "You're acting like a spoiled child, and I'll treat you like one until you stop."

"You ALWAYS treat me like I'm five!" Sara yelled, taking a step toward him. "You've treated me like I'm five since I was in college. You've treated me like I was five since I moved to Las Vegas. And you've especially treated me like I'm five since I started caring about you!"

Grissom's retort was interrupted by the sound of the hospital's intercom system. "Would the couple in room 325 settle their argument elsewhere, please? We have patients who are actually concerned with healing here."

Sara couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of her. She flopped back down onto the bed and eyed Grissom. "You know, the staff here already has us married off, Gris. And I explicitly told the doctor that we're not. I guess we do fight like it." She shrugged. "Truce, okay? You can stay as long as you treat me like an adult and not someone to be bossed around."

Grissom nodded. "I'm not leaving, Sara."

"I just said that, idiot," she grinned.

"No, I mean that I'm not leaving whether you approve of me being here or not. You need to understand that I am genuinely worried about your condition, Sara. I don't want to lose a CSI, but even more, I don't want to lose Sara Sidle."

Sadness washed over Sara's face, though she tried to hide it. "You already lost me," she said, too quietly for Grissom to hear.

"So she thinks you treat her like a kid, huh," Catherine asked later that day as they stood outside Sara's room. She'd brought him an overnight bag with a week's worth of clothing and necessities. "Well I've got news for you, Gris. You do."

Grissom stared at her. "No I don't, Cath."

"Trust me," she shot back, "you do. The rest of us see it. That's why Nick feels so sure that you really don't have a claim on her. You also treat her like your personal lap dog sometimes. 'Here, Sara! Come work with me!' one minute, and then 'Bad Sara! Look what you did!' the next. Honestly, I'm surprised she lasted this long without doing harm to either herself or you."

Grissom wondered idly why everyone had waited until this happened to spring all these revelations on him. "You're not serious, Cath, are you? I don't treat her like a dog, and I don't treat her like a child."

"Try telling that to the woman asleep in there," she said, jerking her thumb in Sara's direction. "That's what she thinks, and with good reason. Listen, Grissom. You need to get your act together real fast, or you're going to lose her totally. She's so close to really trying to make a relationship with Nick, and that's just wrong on so many levels."

"But I . . ."

"I don't care 'what you,' Gil. I'm not the one you need to convince, and at the rate you're going, you're never going to convince Sara either. Get your ass in gear, old man." With that, she turned to leave.

"But Catherine!" he called after her. "How do I convince her?"

"You're the adult, Grissom, remember? If you're so mature, you figure it out," she called back as she stepped into the elevator.

"Well, you two," the doctor said the next morning as he stepped into Sara's room, "are we ready for another bandage change?"

Sara's response was to try to scoot to the other side of the bed and hide behind her pillow. Grissom gave her a worried look and said, "You know, Doc, I get the impression she's not. But I'm not going to be the one to tell her she doesn't have a choice."

Dr. LaBianca chuckled. "Touche, Grissom. Well, then, Sara, it looks like the job falls to me. Come on over here."

"Can I at least sit in a chair?" Sara asked, rising and walking toward the man. "I feel like I'm growing mold in this bed."

"I don't think so, Sara. I know you're a stoic, but I need someone to hold down your shoulders so you don't punch me. Why don't we compromise: you can sit on the side of the bed. But I still need to restrain your arms."

"I'll hold her," Grissom volunteered. He sat down on her bed and held out a hand to her. "Come on, Sidle," he said with a jerk of his head.

Sara reluctantly sat down next to him. Grissom wrapped one arm around her shoulders and whispered, "Don't worry, ok? This is what I'm here for." He held onto her good arm with his other hand and ran his fingers gently over the goose bumps that had formed there from her anxiety.

Sara gave him a wounded look, but reluctantly held out her hand to her doctor. "You know, by the time I get out of here, I'm going to have a real psychological aversion to being near men in white coats."

LaBianca laughed as he rolled off the gauze that held the bandage on. "From what Grissom tells me, that could certainly put a damper on your career." He set aside the roll of cotton and turned back to her. "Ready?"

Sara grimaced and Grissom offered her his hand. She took it in a firm grip, ready to squeeze.

"Now, I can't jerk this one off so quickly. It needs to be peeled. Ok, here goes." He began to inch the now-hardened bandage away from her skin. The first few millimeters didn't hurt, since that was healthy skin, but the pain soon began to build.

To her mortification, Sara let out a whimper. "Stop, please?" she asked desperately.

"He can't, Sara, you know that," Grissom said. "We need to check out your hand." A second after he said that, he turned to the doctor and said furiously, "Can't you give her some lidocaine or something?"

The doctor didn't say anything, just shook his head and ripped away another inch of the bandage. Sara moaned and Grissom, sure that he was feeling her pain, moaned also. He wondered if this was what it would be like if he and Sara had children. He wasn't sure he could take it for longer than a few minutes at a time.

Sara sucked in her breath and would have torn her hand away from the doctor's grasp if Grissom hadn't been holding her. "I hate you!" she shouted at the doctor.

Grissom managed to smile. "At least you hate him this time, and not me."

"I hate you too!"

"No, you don't, Sidle. Admit it, you like me," he said, noticing that there was only another inch of bandage to be pulled away. He quickly leaned over and kissed Sara's cheek, trying to distract her from the pain. "Almost done, sweetie. Buck up."

It worked long enough for the doctor to get the dressing off of her hand, but the peace was broken when a furious voice from the doorway hissed, "What the hell is going on here?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to the doorway to see Nick, who looked like he was seething.

"Answer me! What the hell are you doing to her, Grissom?"

Sara peeled herself away from Grissom and stood up. "Calm down, Nick. You just experienced the removal of my wet-to-dry dressing."

"From your cheek? With Grissom's mouth?"

"Nick," Grissom said in a voice that he hoped sounded calm, "she was in a lot of pain. I was trying to distract her."

"Nick!" Sara snapped out. "Stop it. Now. If you can't act like a human being, leave."

"And leave you with him? No way!"

"Then come out to the lounge with me and I'll explain this to you. Not in here."

Grissom started to protest, sure that Sara shouldn't be walking right now, but she waved a hand at him. "Shut up, Grissom." She strode proudly out of the room, not checking to see that Nick followed.

When they were gone, the doctor turned to Grissom. "Your competition?"

"You could say that," Grissom said, nodding. "He's her boyfriend, at least officially. But she's only dating him because I told her I wouldn't date her, and . . .it's a long story, doc. I won't bore you with it."

Dr. LaBianca only smiled. "You tried the noble route, didn't you, and found out that it never works in your favor?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Gil, let me share something with you," the doctor began. "My wife is ten years younger with me, and I tried the same thing. I wanted her to be happy with someone her own age. Nearly lost her because I kept rejecting her advances. What actually ended up happening," he said, ducking his head in embarrassment, "was that she got fed up one day and knocked me out cold. Before I could get my bearings when I woke up, she knelt down next to me and whispered that I was a complete idiot who didn't deserve her, but I could have her anyway." He smiled gently, remembering. "We got married the next week."

Grissom frowned. "That's a nice story, Doctor, but Sara and I aren't in the same situation."

"Oh, it certainly looks to me like you are. Only difference is, she's the one laid out flat. I recommend you hurry up and do the idiot bit and throw yourself on her mercy. Or just throw yourself on her!" he finished with a laugh.