Yippee, another chapter for you! Enjoy!

"The police keep asking questions, wondering why I was at your house, if there's anything going on between us, or if anyone has a reason to want to do you in. I told them a lot of people may want you dead. You're the top CSI. You stick people in jail! Then they asked if any spurned lovers may have come after you. I laughed at them. They obviously don't know you very well."

Sara smiled as she spoke, running a hand through Grissom's hair. It had been five days since he'd been attacked, but Grissom had yet to wake up. Sara had been given two weeks off to recuperate from what she had seen, with the option to use some vacation time if she needed more. She had spent most of, if not all, her time sitting by Grissom's side, praying for him to wake up.

She moved her hand to his face, gently caressing his cheek. "Come on, Gil," she said, using his given name for once. "You need to wake up. We all miss you." He still didn't move, and only the constant beeping on the heart monitor and the gently rise and fall of his chest showed life.

She sighed, letting her hand fall from his face. She laid her head down by his in defeat. He wasn't going to wake up. He would just fade away one night, leaving her alone with a gaping hole in her heart.

She loved him. She couldn't explain why or when, but she knew. And now he would never know. She's waited too late, even though she had asked him out. He hadn't know just how deep her feelings for him ran. But had he even felt the same? She had no idea. At times he acted as if her may be interested, then he would revert back to his 'supervisor' role and ignore her.

"Why do I try?" she said to herself. "He could never love me…"

"How do you know that?" a raspy voice whispered, startling her. She flung her head up from its resting place, staring into Grissom's blue eyes. Her face broke out into a huge smile. "Gris!" she exclaimed, awkwardly hugging him as best she could.

He seemed startled at first, but patted her back weakly after a moment. "Yeah…"

She released him, but kept her face close. She put her hands on either side of his face. "We were all so worried," she said, her voice cracking slightly. She didn't even realize she was crying until he reached up and wiped a tear from her face.

"I know. I heard, some of it, that is."

Sara frowned. "What do you mean?"

Grissom swallowed with some difficulty, then turned away. At first, Sara thought he was refusing to talk to her, until she saw him painfully reaching for the water pitcher that sat on the table on the other side of his bed. She quickly stood and walked around, gently pushing his arm down. She poured him a glass, then held it for him as he drank.

He raised his eyebrows at her in a typical Grissom manner. "You're being awfully nice to me," he commented, his voice a little stronger.

"Well," Sara said as she went back to her chair. "You were just shot and lying here near death."

"That's it?" Grissom asked, a tiny smile flitting across his lips. He glanced down in surprise as she grasped his hand.

"You were saying..?"

He stared at her blankly for a moment. "Oh yeah. Well, it was like being stuck between being awake and being asleep. I remember seeing you, then nothing. But it seemed as though I could hear everything that was being said at times." He stopped, staring at the wall, then he looked up at her. "I never knew," he whispered, squeezing her hand weakly.

Sara smiled and covered his hand with her own. "You must be blind."

"Probably," he said, his eyes dropping already. His few minutes of consiousness had drained his limited energy. He opened them again. "How long?"

"Forever…"

"Wow. That's a long time…" he whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting…"

Sara stood and put her hands on his face again, leaning close. His eyes opened a little. "You're forgiven. Now, don't worry. I'll be here when you wake up." She lowered her face to his and gently pressed her lips to his. After a moment she pulled away, and smiled at him. His eyes seemed alight, despite his fatigue. He was still smiling when he dropped off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sara was returning to Gris' room from a quick lunch, an extra sandwich in hand, when she saw Catherine standing out in the hall in front of his room. Sara smiled.

"Hey."

Catherine smiled back. "Hey. How's he been doing?"

"He's good. Doctors say he's making a great recovery. After only two weeks he's been able to sit up. For the amount of damage the bullet did, that's great progress. It'll still be slow for him, but the doctors say that they've never seen anyone so determined to get better." She moved toward the door, but Catherine didn't move to let her pass. Sara looked up at her quizzically.

"You can't go in. The police are in there, asking him questions." Catherine sighed. "He says it was a woman he saw that night, but he can't remember a face." She looked up at Sara. "They think it was you, and Ecklie is doing nothing to quell that theory."

Sara's jaw dropped. "Me? Why? I have no reason to want Grissom dead!"

"I know you don't, but the police see to think so. And Ecklie got the case, and he's under pressure to make it go away."

"Why do they think it's me?"

"Well, he saw a woman, you were the only one nearby, and someone claims that you and he had a little spat."

"That's bullshit! If I had shot him, why would I stay with him in the hospital?" She shook her head vigorously. "And I haven't had a little spat with him either! Who the hell said that?"

"They won't tell us. But you could be staying with Grissom because of guilt. Look, we all know you didn't do it, and evidence will prove that."

"They should already have collected evidence from his house. That should already have counted me out."

Catherine shook her head. "You know Ecklie. He's the first to point out that you know a lot about forensics, so it would be easy for you to get rid of evidence."

Sara shook her head. "That rat-faced son of a-"

Catherine put a hand on her arm. "Sara, you have nothing to worry about. You didn't do it, so they should have no way to pin it on you." She gave her shoulder a squeeze just as a pair of police stepped out of Grissom's room. They nodded to Catherine, and studied Sara curiously. During the first few days of the ordeal, she'd been a mess, refusing to leave the hospital for anything. Only when Grissom had threatened to fire her if she didn't go home and rest did she leave. She returned to the hospital, in much better condition and spirits. She looked very different from the disheveled person the police had seen before, and it was almost as if they were trying to recognize her.

Finally one stepped forward. "Ms. Sidle?" he asked, his voice stern. "She nodded. "I need to to come with me."

Sara frowned, but nodded. She hand Grissom's sandwich to Catherine. "Go ahead and give that to him for me. Tuna fish on wheat bread; shouldn't hurt his stomach. At least that's what the nurse told me. "She gave Catherine a small smile. "He hates the food they give him."

Catherine nodded, and took the plastic-wrapped sandwich. "I'll make sure he gets it," she said softly.

Sara nodded, then allowed the police to walk her down the hall, looking back only once. Catherine watching until she was out of view, then turned and went into Grissom's room.

Gris looked up at her when she entered and smiled. Then he went back to buttoning his shirt. "Hey."

"Hey. They're letting you change into your own clothes? Why?"

He shrugged, still fumbling with the buttons. "They want me to go look at a line-up. See if I can recognize the attacker," he said, his face clearly showing that he thought it was wasted time.

"How are you feeling?"

He shrugged again. "Better than I was, obviously. Still can't walk, but can do a little more than just lie around." Catherine watching him fumble with the buttons a few seconds longer. She shook her head and stepped up to him, buttoning the shirt. He smiled weakly. "It's all the medication," he explained, holding up his hand so Catherine could see how badly it shook.

"Whoa," Catherine said sympathetically. "Strong stuff." She finished his shirt, then patted his chest playfully. "Oh," she said, tossing the sandwich at him. "Sara got that for you. Said you hated the food they gave you."

Grissom smirked. "Have you tried hospital food? Damn soft diet…"

"Gil, I gave birth to a child. Believe me, I've had my fair share of hospital gunk."

He smiled, then suddenly grasped her arm when she went to get up. "I…uh…I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Sure, Gil. What is it?"

He looked down, his face reddening slightly. "I'm supposed to pay a visit to the station, answer some more question there. And I can't exactly go in the hospital robe…" Catherine raised an eyebrow. He grinned and looked pointedly at a dark pair of pants draped over a chair.

Catherine stared at him in disbelief. "You want me to help you put your pants on?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I can't do it alone. I can't even stand. Please, Catherine. Better you than one of the nurses. I think one of them has a crush on me or something, and I'm pretty sure she'd volunteer. But that could be…traumatizing."

Catherine laughed. "Buddy, I'm not putting your pants on for you. That's just weird. I'm sure Sara would volunteer, but as she's not here right now, I think you'll have to settle for one of the nurses."

Grissom groaned. "That is the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me."

Catherine shook her head. "Sorry, Gil. I don't I could help you much anyway. There's no way I could pick you up, and you can't pick yourself up. So it would all be in vain, and we'd have to ask a nurse for help anyway." She smirked and headed towards the door.

"You're such an ass," Grissom grumbled.

She smiled again and cocked her head to the side. "I know. I try. Well, Mr. Grissom, let me go find you a nurse who knows how to put pants on a crippled man."

Grissom's groan followed her into the hall.