Nick's POV:

My mother, sister, and Sara's brother left to go get something to eat; they invited me along, but I was afraid to move from her side. About five hours ago, I stopped hearing the predictable, cacophonous beeping of the machines. About three hours ago, I realized that I had no idea what time it was. Time didn't matter anymore; I just wanted to be here. I just wanted to be with Sara; that's all I really wanted. I spent years wanting to be with her; I just never expected that I would be waiting in a medical purgatory for Sara to come or go.

The doctors keep saying that the EEG was encouraging; there has been talk of disconnecting the ventilator. There has been talk of Sara waking up very soon. The surgeon said it would be soon; the nurses said that these things take time. They keep telling me that sleep is the body's best way of beginning to heal itself. Sara is working very hard to heal herself.

People come and go. Grissom, Catherine, and Warrick have sat next to me. Greg and Brass seemed to have persisted. Brass set up a make sift office at the nurses' station; Greg . . . he just refuses to go. He's been sleeping in the waiting room for a long time. He's been taking care of my family. Greg told me that there is nothing better than the gift of family. Greg was right; my coworkers had become my family. They were always there when I needed them; I wished that Sara felt the same, but I knew her experience with our coworkers was so much different than my own. I think Greg was the only one, besides me, that had ever been to her apartment. Sara invested a lot time into teaching Greg about evidence collection and analysis. She spent weeks tutoring him; Sara amassed an amazing number of textbooks.

She didn't want to go this afternoon, but Sara relented when Grissom said that he was spending time with his mother. We were still in bed. It was rare that we ever just spent a day in bed. We watched the news and a home decorating show. Sara and I had been talking about buying a house; we had talked about getting a dog. It was a perfect afternoon. I loved the time that I had alone with Sara; those were often the best moments of the day.

We normally went running in the early afternoon. She was determined to improve her mile time. Whatever she wanted to do, she threw everything she had into achieving her goals. I admired her focus and determination. I did everything I could for Sara; I tried to be there to provide the support that she so desperately needed. I knew there wasn't anyone else that would be there to do that for Sara.

Our first real date was more of an accident than anything else. The rape victim that was murdered in her own driveway, I knew that Sara was assigned to that case. Grissom should have never assigned her to that case; it was way too personal for Sara. When I came back to the lab, Sara was in her Tahoe. She was crying. I had never seen anyone cry like that. I asked if she was okay; Sara said that she wasn't okay. I took her out for breakfast; she was a mess. I drove her home; I promised to pick her up before shift. Sara asked me in; I made coffee while Sara showered. We fell asleep watching a documentary about butterflies. I borrowed a shirt that Hank had left at her apartment; she told me to throw it out when I was done wearing it. She joked about wanting to burn the shirt, but overtime made is impossible to find the time for her 'voodoo' ritual. When we got to work, Warrick asked me if I had a hot date . . . I obviously hadn't made it home all day. I think I just blushed or something.

Sara and I started going out to breakfast nearly every morning. It was the first real 'date' I had since Kristy was murdered; Sara said that she couldn't date anyone after Hank. She would visibly cringe if I ever told her that she was beautiful; I think that was the line he used to get women into bed. I guessed that Hank found Sara's soft spot; sometimes it was better than always hearing that you were smart. I learned quickly that I needed to be careful with my words; beautiful, sexy, smart, and rape were normally off limits. Each word had a negative connotation so strong that it could bring Sara to her knees.

It didn't take me long to figure out that sex was going to be a complicated situation. She had scars that were hidden by her clothes; one would never know that they were there. Sara was terrified of what her body looked like; she dressed carefully to make sure that the scars never showed. I asked her once; I found out exactly where Sara knew Grissom from. He had investigated her rape when he was a rookie. She didn't like to talk about it, but she said that she thought Grissom understood her. I guess that's why it hurt so much when Grissom reject her feelings; Sara thought that Grissom was rejecting more than the feelings . . . he was rejecting her.

It took a long time to work through Sara's issues, but I was glad that she let me come along for the ride. I didn't want this to be the end of our ride.

"Nick, the driver is going to be charged with a DUI and reckless endangerment with a motor vehicle," Brass said.

"How's he pleading?" I asked.

"The same way every other moron does. He's planning to plead not guilty," Brass replied.

"The brakes?" I asked. I wasn't at all surprised. I knew that criminal charges could bring even the sanest person into an alternative reality.

"Perfect working order. How's Sara doing?" Brass asked.

"Still sleeping," I replied.

"Can I get you some supper?" Brass asked. I wasn't sure what to say; I wasn't even sure if I was hungry. I think Greg offered me food a thousand times, but I don't think I ever accepted or declined. Those things didn't seem important right now.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Well, I'll pick you up something anyway," Brass replied, "Greg is going to take James and Jacqui back to their hotel. I think Linda said something about staying here for a little while. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Jim," I replied. I rarely saw this kind of kindness from Brass. He tried so hard to compartmentalize hid feelings so he didn't feel; they were discreetly hidden amongst the smart-ass comments and commentary. I understood why he did that; people become human if you begin to feel for them. That's what always got me into trouble; I was the emotional one, Sara was the stoic one, Catherine was the motherly one, Greg was the goofy one, Warrick was the aloof one, and Grissom was the schizoid one. The distinctions always seemed to hold up pretty well.

I was thankful that the room was silent again, but I wished that my mind would also be silent for just a few moments.

"Nicky," Grissom said. I was shocked that he was here; Catherine said that Grissom would probably barricade himself into the lab until the evidence told him Sara's story, but this case was a little more cut and dry than most. The answers were loud and clear; the drunk man in the semi hit Sara's Tahoe. That was going to be the easy part for Grissom; the aftermath always seemed to be a little more decimating.

"She's taking her damn time waking up; I don't know why I would expect anything different from Sara. She always liked to do things at her own pace," I replied. I hoped Sara heard that; she could be so damn stubborn sometimes. I wanted so badly to believe that this time Sara was just being stubborn. I thought maybe if I called her on it . . . she might just wake up so everything could be okay again.

"Nicky," Grissom said with a sigh as he sat down, "When did this all happen?"

He wanted to know when Sara no longer was his.

"Six months ago after that rape victim was gunned down in her driveway," I replied.

"You could have told me," Grissom replied.

"Sara asked me not to . . . she wanted us to prove that we could maintain a professional relationship," I replied. I twisted the gold band on my ring finger. We had maintained a professional relationship; we were good at pushing our feelings aside until we walked through the front door in the morning.

"Sara was probably right . . . I probably would have said the wrong things," Grissom replied, "Is she happy?"

"We are doing well. Marriage has been better than I ever imagined," I replied. I couldn't even begin to imagine how my words were hurting Grissom. Saying these things was too awkward.

"I'm glad. Nicky, I'm sorry I asked Sara to take the case," Grissom replied.

"Sara loves her job. There's nothing to apologize for. Greg said some saying in Norwegian that made sense, but I forget what it was . . . it was something about fate and chance. You should ask him. I'm sure Brass would appreciate a new witty comment from you," I replied. I was rambling; I wasn't mad, but the words sounded angry. I was just tired of waiting for Sara to wake up.

"I wish Greg didn't try so hard to emulate me," Grissom replied. I didn't want Greg to either; it was nice to have some comic relief in the lab. It was even better to have some of that out in the field; it broke the tension. I didn't want Greg to become hardened as the rest of us had.

"Greggo is growing up," I replied. I appreciated the mindless banter; it was nice to have a momentary distraction.

"That he is. You all have grown up," Grissom commented.

We had, but Grissom neglected that we all had begun to grow away from him.

We waited in silence. I could feel my heart race every time Sara's eyelashes would flutter. It would be soon. My wife would be returned to me soon.