Title: Days Gone Bye
Author: Spike Speigel
Rating: PG
Classification: Grissom/Sara
Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.
Spoilers: Nothing substantial.
Summary: Sara does some soul searching. Sequel to And The Cross You Rode In On.
Status: Finished
I think I'm asleep.
Because when I manage to make out the shapes in the darkened room, I could swear I see Grissom kneeling at the side of the bed, his head resting on the over starched sheets. I begin to blink the sleep out of my eyes as I realize that I'm not dreaming. Grissom is really here.
But where exactly is 'here'?
I begin to lift myself up from the bed but discover I'm hampered by something near the hollow of my elbow. I slowly gaze over to see the IV snaking its way from my arm to the bag of saline solution hanging next to the bed. Also, the sharp pain near my side hinders me from sitting up. That's when I finally put the pieces together.
Grissom.
He didn't see the gun so he couldn't move out of the way in time. So, I did the only thing I could, given the situation. I pushed him out of the way.
Guess I didn't move fast enough.
Is that why you're here, Grissom? Were you worried about me?
I lean back against the rigid pillow, letting out a soft sigh. I steal a glance toward Grissom's sleeping form, realizing that he doesn't know I'm looking at him. So, I begin to stare at him, finally noticing that his cheeks are glistening in the moonlight.
My mouth opens slightly as my hand tentatively brushes against his cheek. And, for the first time in my life, I'm at a loss for words. Because Grissom's been crying.
He's been crying because of me.
My hand moves to the top of his head, my fingers finding their way into his graying locks, stroking him gently as though he was a cat sitting in my lap. I can feel my eyes prickling with tears when I recognize the smell of cheap alcohol.
Why do we do this to ourselves? We both know how we feel about the other. So, why is it that we can only be honest in such dire situations?
Unfortunately, the answer's not forthcoming as I lay there, tears beginning to trickle down the side of my face, making marks similar to Grissom's. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he's here. In the end, that's all I've ever really wanted.
I'd be lying if I said I've never thought of more with the man nestled near me, but for right now, this is enough.
It has to be.
Fin