A/N I couldn't resist, what a great day to resolve last week's cliffhanger. Happy Valentine's Day! I'm behind with my writing, something about last week's CSI truly "Unbearable" episode distracted me and I may have to write more to rectify that situation I do hope to post Chap 11 of this story next week. I'll do my best, although it's coming along slowly.

Thanks for all your wonderful reviews! They mean a lot to me. And smryczko, you always keep me on my toes. Thanks!

Chapter 10 Acts of Faith

No matter what he did, he was miserable. And for once, it had nothing to do with his physical aches and pains, or diminished mental alertness, although those were still forces to be reckoned with. While similar to the days before in that he had trouble engaging his mind, today was infinitely worse. If he'd thought he'd been suffering before, he was gravely in error, for now he was most definitely in a hell of his own making.

Earlier that day, after she sensed that he couldn't kiss her, Sara had fled, leaving him alone in the woods for almost an hour. He was frozen to the spot; stunned by actions that he himself didn't understand. The voice within him screaming, "NO", had overwhelmed him, knocking him senseless. He felt powerless within its grasp.

When Sara finally returned, her cheeks were tear stained and her eyes red and puffy. He was desperate to say something or grasp her hand, certain he was losing her, but she cut him off with a stormy stare. She didn't want to talk; she simply drove him home in stony silence. Rather than remaining at his place for dinner and a movie, as was their custom on her nights off, she faintly mumbled that she couldn't stay. Refusing to maintain eye contact, she didn't even enter his townhouse; she simply held the front door open for him as he pushed his chair inside.

Even then, with his heart aching, he was vocally paralyzed and he couldn't say a word. It was as if he were struck dumb. He wanted to reach for her, to try to explain himself, no matter how foolish he sounded, but he didn't have any words. He didn't know what to do.

And then she was gone.

His townhouse had never seemed emptier, like a barren shell. Almost every room he entered reminded him of her. As he forced himself to heat up some soup for dinner, the image of Sara making pancakes greeted him. While eating at the dining room table, he kept glancing up, half expecting to see her face. After dinner, he couldn't bring himself to watch TV while sitting on the couch where he'd held her only a few nights ago. Tears almost came to his eyes as he stumbled across the plastic bag with tonight's movie, Shadow of Doubt. Even his bedroom was a painful reminder, though mostly due to his dreams.

The only place, which didn't scream her name, caused him to scream internally for different reasons. He wasn't about to retreat to his bathroom for any extended period of time.

If time had dragged before, this night was lasting an eternity. No matter what he did, he couldn't settle down. He was practically trembling from exhaustion, yet he couldn't sleep.

What was he going to do?

He tried his own form of pacing, hobbling pathetically with his crutches. He almost welcomed the pain, he felt as if he deserved it. Yet he couldn't maintain that activity for long, he didn't have the strength.

He lay down on his bed with the intention of closing his eyes for a while, to attempt to rest. He hadn't bothered to put on his pajamas; he doubted he would fall asleep. As he stuffed the extra pillow behind his head, Sara's perfume assaulted him. She usually used that pillow while they watched movies together. He sighed heavily.

Was it too late? Had he already lost her? He couldn't bear the thought.

Surprisingly, even though he couldn't comprehend his vehement objections, he wasn't willing to just let her slip away, as he might've done in the past. For he was far past the safety cut off for this relationship, he was already suffering. Since he was utterly miserable and he literally had nothing else left to lose, he did something he'd never had the guts to do before.

He called her.

As he waited nervously after pressing the numbers, the phone continued to ring. She wasn't answering it, so he hung up.

A little later he tried again, yet this time he left an impromptu message. "Sara, please, I need to talk to you. Please…" He hated himself, he was practically pleading with her. He sounded like a desperate man. He had no idea what he would say if she actually picked up the receiver or called him back. But he had to try or he couldn't live with himself.

His thoughts stumbled around and around like a drunken man weaving about in circles, as he strove to determine what was holding him back. He was completely bewildered; he didn't have a clue. For he knew with absolute clarity that he loved Sara and that he wanted her in his life. He also firmly suspected that she loved him too. After all they'd been through together, shouldn't that be enough? What was he missing?

But, he couldn't focus, he couldn't hone in on the problem.

Since he wasn't able to rest, he attempted to divert himself watching a program on his smaller bedroom television set. His mind continued to hum as thoughts flitted about his head.

How could he survive even tomorrow without Sara? She was his one ray of hope, the main person who kept him going, his proverbial anchor. The thought of facing the next day without her was unthinkable.

Ironically enough, his turmoil over Sara had distracted him momentarily from dwelling upon his other problems, which had starting creeping back into his head. The all too familiar litany began to taunt him.

What would his future hold? It had looked pretty bleak before, without Sara, would it even be worth facing? Would he ever be himself again? And how would he face the world if he were not? Would he ever be able to work again?

After a few more hours and a few more phone call attempts, Grissom had drifted into a light doze. A loud shout caused him to stir.

"Grissom!"

Whoever it was, she was angry. And his heart sank as he immediately recognized that it wasn't Sara's voice.

"Where the hell are you?" Just as suddenly, she sounded frightened. Within seconds, Catherine barged into his bedroom. She allowed herself an instant of relief as she determined that he wasn't in any physical danger and fully clothed. Then she engaged in full battle mode.

"What did you do?" Catherine's eyes were blazing.

He was fully aware of what she was talking about. Feeling ashamed, he couldn't meet her eyes.

"What the hell did you do? She looks…like…like something in her died. What did you do Gil?" she insisted.

Pointing out the obvious as he adjusted his glasses and sat up on his bed, he mentioned, "Catherine, aren't you supposed to be at work?"

His question annoyed her. "As a matter of fact, I am. However since Sara happened to show up on her night off, for the first time in over six weeks, mind you, and she insisted upon processing the mounds of evidence from my case, I have a little time on my hands," her voice was laced with sarcasm.

Since he wasn't responding to her anger, Catherine took a breath to try to calm down. That was when she actually examined Grissom. Her friend usually wore an impassive expression, except on select occasions. And when compared with those, she'd never seen him looking so down; it was alarming.

"Are you okay?"

He shook his head.

"What happened?" she asked, more softly as she sat down beside him.

"I..don't know. I just don't know," he mumbled.

She didn't buy it. "What do you mean, you don't know? Do you love her?"

Without hesitation, he firmly responded, "Yes."

She grinned faintly; pleasantly surprised by the confidence behind his words. "So what's the problem?"

If only he were certain. He struggled with his thoughts and feelings; he didn't feel comfortable talking about this stuff. It wasn't his area of expertise. Yet, most likely Catherine would understand it better. Perhaps she could help him see more clearly and make sense of the situation. "It's more complicated than that."

"Why?"

"It just is."

"C'mon Gil, if you love someone, you get all the stuff that comes along with them -- the good and the bad, and the ugly." She grinned at her reference to the classic Clint Eastwood movie. " It's part of the deal, you know - 'in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part?"

Her words triggered a thought within him that he blurted out, without thinking. "It's not a good deal if one of you may be permanently disabled and severely limited in their options."

Catherine's eyes become wider with understanding as she astutely grasped the situation. "How old is Sara?"

"Thirty three, I think." His eyebrow arched, he didn't understand the relevance of the question.

"Isn't she old enough to make her own decisions?"

"What do you mean?"

She laughed, for what was obvious to her; Grissom was clueless about. "You're holding back because you think you're not any good for her. That she won't have a good life with you. But, if you love her, that should be her decision, not yours. Besides, it's only been a little more than a month and a half since you injured yourself. You may be over-reacting; these things take time. You may be jumping to the wrong conclusions about your future. You don't know what's going to happen. Sometimes, like it or not, you have to deal with what life gives you one day at a time."

Catherine's talents were clearly amazing for that was it. The vice grip which had been tightly clamping his insides for hours finally lessened its death hold. Relief washed over him as some of the tension within him dissipated.

"What do I do?" He looked to her for help for this was certainly her arena as well.

Stating the obvious, she replied with some sarcasm, "Don't you think you should try to talk to her?"

"I've already called her, several times. She won't answer."

Catherine's mouth momentarily hung open in disbelief. Had aliens abducted Gil Grissom and sent this man in his place? Grissom was so distracted that he missed out on this colorful display. Gathering her wits, she mentioned, "It doesn't really count unless you leave a message. Did you do that?"

Remembering the pleading tones of those messages, the ridges of his ears began to turn slightly red. "Yeah, a few."

Catherine nodded, impressed. "I hate to say this, and I don't know exactly what happened between you two, but gauging from her reaction, I think you're in major trouble. You need something good."

"Like…" he was hungry for suggestions.

She rubbed her chin. "You need something major. This is the big show here. If you blow it, it's probably over. You gotta give it your all."

"I need to talk to her," Grissom insisted.

"I know. I could drive you to the lab or her house," she suggested.

He shook his head. "I don't think she'd let me talk to her under those circumstances. I think she has to come to me."

Slightly flabbergasted, Catherine asked, "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Flowers worked before." Technically it was a plant, yet that had seemed like ages ago in much simpler times.

She was skeptical and she delicately tried to point out. "Gil, I don't think that's enough."

Grissom became more confident as he formulated a plan. "I know it's not. Can you stick around a while? I need your help with some things."

The pressure was on. He knew what he had to do, and the potential consequences involved. Only his throbbing exhausted body, along with his thudding temples, wasn't cooperating, not to mention the presence of a new distraction. While he'd insisted that Catherine remain at his place until he was finished, he was being to have his doubts about the wisdom of that decision.

Catherine hovered over him, insisting upon peering over his shoulder. She actually tried to read what he was writing until he abruptly covered it up with his forearm. She continued to butt in with unsolicited advice.

"Remember you need to be honest, Gil. Lay it all out there. I don't think you're getting any more chances," she warned.

He'd had enough. "Cath, go away. I mean go watch TV or something. I can't do this with you hanging over my shoulder. It's…personal."

She was wounded, "I thought you needed my help."

"I do, but not with this. I have to do this by myself," he explained.

She understood and strolled into the living room to sit on his couch. "If you need any advice," she called over.

"I know, give me some privacy and let me think," he warned.

It was a slow and agonizing process. Although it was a brief note, it took him over an hour to compose it. He'd never been good at expressing his feelings, especially ones that were this intense. He was tempted to ask Catherine to review it to make sure it made sense and to determine if she thought that it might be effective, but that felt far too invasive. Instead, he took a short break, rolling his chair over to speak with her.

"How's it going?" she asked as she checked the time on her watch. Grissom's home still made her nervous. At least it was a slow night and Warrick was covering for her, just in case. Yet she needed to get back to the lab soon.

"Give me a few minutes, I want to check it one more time."

"So what's the plan?" Catherine asked.

"Are there any florists open this time of night?"

"Honey, we're in Vegas, there's all night everything," she grinned.

Thank goodness he could set his plan into motion as soon as possible. "Good. I can order the flowers but I want them to be delivered with this note. Can you bring it to the florist for me?"

She eagerly agreed, "You bet. I can deliver it with the flowers myself, if you like."

"No, but can you just make sure she doesn't take off without seeing them. That she reads my note."

"Should I call you and tell you her response?" Catherine asked.

"No." Although he was anxious and her offer was very appealing, he didn't want Catherine that deeply involved in his love life. Besides, he'd know soon enough if it were successful. "Thanks Cath."

"What are friends for?" she smiled.

He returned to the dining table to review the letter one last time. It was brief yet it was heart felt.

Sara,

Since I'm not sure if you're ever going to visit me again, I'm going to be as honest as I can. I love you Sara. I want you in my life. The past few weeks have been hell and only being with you has made them bearable.

Before my accident, I could've thought of multiple quotes to describe my feeling for you, since I don't know how to even begin to use my own words. All I can tell you is that I'm starting to feel grateful that I survived, that I have a second chance at a life with you in it, I hope.

I don't fully understand why I behaved as I did earlier today. I know I hurt you and I'm sorry. Can we talk about it? Can we try to work things out? I miss you honey. Please come over so we can talk.

All my Love,

Gil

He folded the paper, placed it in an envelope then sealed it. Catherine removed it from his grasp and clasped his shoulder.

"Good luck."

After Catherine had left, Grissom collapsed on his bed for several hours. Despite his exhaustion, he rose early on the chance that Sara would come by directly after her shift. He wanted to be ready. He washed his face and changed into fresh clothes, while nervously tracking the time.

He had no idea if she would actually show up. This type of situation was totally novel to him. Though he knew that watching the clock wouldn't make the time go faster. After eating a light breakfast, he began to play chess on the computer, an activity he'd discovered a few days ago.

He tried not to dwell on the mediocre level he was playing at. At least he didn't have to face any sneers from his virtual opponent, and he could take all the time he wanted with his moves.

Night shift was over by now, and still no Sara. He sighed. He fought the urge to call Catherine and find out what was going on. Had Sara read his note? Perhaps she was so disgusted with him that she threw away the roses without even noticing his letter? He caught himself with his fingers perched by his cell phone. Or maybe he should try contacting Sara again? Maybe she would talk to him now? He managed to pry his phone out of his hand and place it out of reach. Patience Gil, he told himself.

Then he reminded himself that Sara tended to get absorbed in her work. Catherine had mentioned that she'd volunteered to process a large amount of evidence. Perhaps she was so involved in her task, she hadn't taken a break yet. That sounded like his Sara. If that were the case, hopefully Catherine would intervene to expedite things. He didn't think he could handle this torment much longer.

He wasn't able to concentrate much more on chess; he restlessly drifted to the living room and searched for something to watch on television. Thoughts of Sara preoccupied his mind. After settling on the Discovery Channel by default, he managed to drift off to sleep. Although he was keyed up and nervous, his mending body demanded rest.

A soft voice woke him up. "Hi."

Sara had let herself in. Her face seemed quite pale to him and dark circles rimmed her eyes. Yet, her hair was damp, indicating that she'd stopped by her apartment to shower before coming over, and she'd changed her clothes. She was wearing snug fitting blue jeans with a chocolate brown turtleneck sweater. Surely those were encouraging signs.

"Hi." His heart was thudding wildly within his chest.

She walked over and sat on the couch across from him.

"I…got your flowers. And your note." Her voice was somewhat hoarse, as if she'd been crying recently. Had his gesture had influenced her? "So, I'm here. What do you have to say?"

"I… I…" Damn it, he started to panic, he was claming up again.

Sara was hesitant with her words as well. She couldn't quite look him in the eyes. "Did you mean it? What you said in this?" She held his letter in her hand.

He was frightened he was going to mess things up again, yet he sensed she needed to hear him say the words. "Yes, I love you. I want you to be in my life."

The confidence in his tone seemed to reassure her a little. "I can't go back to the way we were. I need more."

He wheeled his chair closer so he could comfortably reach over and grasp her hands. "I do too. I don't want to go back either."

Her eyes grew wider as his note slipped from her fingers to the floor and she returned the subtle pressure he was exerting on her hands.

He was encouraged, yet Sara was waiting for a well-deserved explanation. But how could he say it without sounding like an idiot? Catherine had made it seem so obvious. "Sara, I can't make any promises. I have no idea what the future holds. I could be like this for the rest of my life. It…doesn't seem fair to you."

This didn't seem to bother Sara. "I know. Things could get pretty rough. But, even though you've changed as a result of the accident, you're still you. And I love you. I have for a long time."

Those words sent adrenaline surging through his body. He wanted to be sure that she knew what she might be getting into. "Honey, I might not be able to work again. I can't be that type of a burden to you."

She edged closer to him so she could move one of her hands to stroke his cheek. More softly she replied, "Shh…like you said, we don't know what's going to happen. That's life. Everybody's got issues. Let's take it one day at a time. You don't get to pick who you fall in love with."

His cobalt blue eyes met her brown ones, which were beginning to exhibit their shine again. This time nothing was going to hold him back as Sara tentatively approached him to sit on his lap. Their eyes remained fixed upon one another, for the past twenty-four hours had been hell for both of them. As she settled herself comfortably on his lap, he used his fingers to trace her jaw line then to tilt her chin towards him. He moistened his lips, impatient to finally kiss her.

A loud banging startled them, followed by the front door opening, causing a frightened Sara to jump out of his lap. Greg, Warrick, and Nick sauntered in, laden with grocery bags.

"Hey," the guys enthusiastically greeted them, completely unaware of their horrible timing.

Grissom was puzzled, to say to least. "Hey guys, what's going on?"

Sara remembered, "Poker."

Those plans felt as if they were made in another lifetime. But Grissom rolled towards his company, attempting to be a good host. He was pleased to see his coworkers, although not thrilled by their interruption.

Warrick grinned as he clasped Grissom's hand. "Man, you're looking a helluva lot better than the last time we saw you. How've you been?"

"Surviving, what's going on with you guys?" Grissom snuck a glance towards Sara.

"The lab just isn't the same without you Grissom. It'll be great when you return." Nick enthusiastically pumped his supervisor's free hand, pleased to see the improvement in him.

Greg pulled some beer out of a grocery sack he placed on the dining room table. "We come bearing refreshments. Are you joining us Sara?" he asked skeptically.

Sara smiled awkwardly, "Well…I guess I better-."

Grissom objected. There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight so soon after he'd finally gotten her back. "No, she's staying," he stated firmly.

The guys exchanged bemused glances.

Then Grissom had another idea. "While you're setting up for the game, will you excuse us for a moment?"

TBC