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Chapter 11

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A sense of deja vú filled the air as the group sat in the waiting room at the hospital. Yet somehow, this time was worse. This time they had all been there. They'd all witnessed helplessly as Sara had willingly sacrificed herself for the rest of them, all to bring Vivian to justice. They'd all experienced and faced near death with Vivian, some more than others, but none as closely as Sara. Now they waited in worried anticipation to learn the fate of one of their own.

Three hours after they'd arrived, a doctor came through the emergency doors and headed their way. "Dr. Grissom?"

"Yes?" Grissom stood to address the doctor, worry and fear uncharacteristically shining in the eyes of a typically expressionless face.

"As you know, Ms. Sidle suffered severe lacerations on her throat. The good news is that they missed her carotid artery. The bad news is, whatever did this to her sliced her voice box. She won't be able to speak for quite a while."

Grissom hung his head. He understood all too well the frustration of not being able to communicate. His mother's deafness and his own hearing problems had proven difficult enough. He couldn't imagine not being able to speak.

"Mr. Grissom?"

"Yes, I'm sorry." Grissom looked back up at the doctor, his face now hard as steel, betraying nothing.

"I was saying that Ms. Sidle is a very lucky woman, even after all that's happened. She lost a lot of blood. She had to have a transfusion. For the long run though, she'll be okay."

"Can we see her?" Grissom asked, breathing a sigh of relief, having not realized he'd been holding it in.

"Yes. Actually, she asked for you. She's been in a private room for the last 15 to 25 minutes stabilizing after surgery. She woke up and after we explained her situation, she wrote her request on a notepad from the nightstand. She specifically asked for you."

Grissom turned to see the rest of the group listening earnestly and staring up at him. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking for permission.

"Go," Catherine said, pushing hair back from Lindsey's sleeping face, then looking up at him. "She needs it as much as you do."

"Yeah, man," Nick smiled. "You saved your damsel… Don't leave her hanging now!"

The group nodded their assent.

Grissom gave a small but rare smile and whispered a sincere "Thank you" before following the doctor back to Sara's room.

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Another small "Thank you" eked its way out as the doctor opened the door to Sara's room, then left. Grissom walked in, closing the door behind him. An eerie silence filled the room as he made his way to her bedside, all the while feeling her eyes upon him. Once seated, he looked up to see her sad smile set upon an otherwise pale and almost lifeless face.

It cut Grissom to the core to see her like this. The bandaging and gauze on her neck was extensive. The sparkle was gone from her eyes. Her hair fell unruly and disheveled on her shoulders. The hospital gown did her no justice whatsoever, hiding her beautiful figure under its formless folds. She held a notepad and pen in her lap and it was clear that she had something on her mind.

"Hello, Sara," he managed with an even tone, dreading the questions to come.

'Is everyone OK?' she wrote.

"Yes, everyone's fine. They're all out in the waiting room, feeling much better now that they know you're all right. Catherine has developed a severe separation anxiety from Lindsey, which, under the circumstances, is understandable. Warrick's okay, but Nick took a swipe on the arm from Vivian's whip. The doctor said he'd look at it soon. Brass went back downtown with Vivian, but made it here about a half an hour ago. Greg… well, Greg won't talk to anyone. I think he's just really freaked out by the whole thing, especially since he was with Vivian the longest out of all of us."

'What about you?'

"I'm fine," he shrugged. "Relieved, frustrated, but mostly just glad that it's over."

Sara cocked her head, then scrawled, 'Frustrated?'

Grissom sighed. "For you. I know how hard it is to feel isolated by communication. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

Sara nodded in understanding. A moment later, she scribbled another message.

'I have a question…'

"Okay… I might have an answer." Despite his light tone, his muscles tightened as he expected the worst.

'Where did you learn to sign?'

Grissom was surprised; this wasn't at all what he'd expected. Stunned into a response, he replied, "My mother taught me… Why?"

'Tell me about it.'

She looked at him intently, waiting for a response.

He wasn't sure why he decided to answer. He'd flat out refused to tell her when she'd asked three years ago during a case. But, somehow, he found it slightly easier to tell her now.

"My mother became deaf when I was eight. Otosclorosis. It's genetic. I had the same issue. I asked her once if it was hard being so isolated, so different. I couldn't understand how she could accept it as gracefully as she did… She told me…" He paused.

Sara prompted him to continue with a hand on his shoulder.

Sighing, he said, "She told me that she wasn't different. She said she was blessed."

He looked at the floor and seemed lost in thought.

Sara watched him, wondering what he was thinking, realizing the love he had for his mother. She'd heard a warmth in his voice when he talked of her. She wondered if she could ever find such a place in his heart.

She started scrawling something else on the pad. Tapping Grissom's arm when she was done, she watched his brow furrow as he read.

"You want me to teach you to sign?" he asked incredulously, looking up at her.

She nodded and started writing again, scribbling furiously for a few moments before handing him the notepad, her hand shaking a bit.

Grissom took the pad and read the note written on the bottom, in what others would have called chicken scratch, but what he had simply come to know as Sara. It read:

'I didn't even expect to be here right now. I'd made my peace. But since I am here, I'll still have to work and frankly, there's no other place I'd rather be than with all of you. The doctor said I won't be able to speak until I'm fully healed and that could take months. I'll need to communicate somehow. I can't keep using notepads; think of how much that would cost the department! Help me make up for all the wrongs that have led me to this place.'

His head snapped up when he finished reading, just in time to see Sara wipe away a tear. Dropping the pad, he sat on the side of her bed and enveloped her in his arms. For the next several minutes, he simply sat and held her, rocking her a bit, as his walls came tumbling down.

Sara just fell into him, weeping silently, feeling safe and secure in his arms. Grissom didn't know her past, didn't understand the wrong of which she spoke, but he stayed. He cared, and that was all that mattered to her.

He tilted his head and whispered in her ear, "Of course, I'll teach you. We'll start as soon as we get home."

Home. It sounded so natural.

Home. Where they could continue on this new path they'd forged and live out the new life that beckoned them.

Home. Where love awaited them.

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