On the seventh day, Sara was barely coherent. Voices came to her, first very loud – Greg was shouting, in a deep, booming, wrath-of-God tone that they should take her to the hospital – then so softly that they were nothing but a whisper that barely scratched at the surface of her consciousness. Sometimes the voices sped up, and she could hear Nicky speaking in a rapid, high-pitched, Alvin-and-the-Chipmunks-style voice to someone on the phone. She caught a few phrases when his voice periodically slowed down: "Really sick… Damn it, Gris..."
The door to the bedroom swung open, and through the black haze that was clouding her vision, she saw a figure stride into the room. The fog rolled back from his face, and she realized it was Grissom.
Grissom's mouth was moving, but no words were penetrating through the cotton that swathed her mind. She could see his eyes – such beautiful blue eyes – and for a moment managed to focus her own eyes on them.
"Sara, honey?" she heard. He knelt down beside her bed.
Vague indignation rose in her. When she was fine, healthy, normal Sara, he ignored her, stared right through her as if she were as transparent as the ghost of her father that was still standing in the corner. When she was sick or injured or pulled over for drunk driving, that's when he was kind to her, that's when he showed up to help her, that's when he called her "honey."
She would show him; she would send him packing. Gathering what little strength she had, she tried to raise a hand to push him away, but it felt as every bone had been replaced with Jell-O.
And now Grissom was slowly standing and climbing onto the bed next to her. He pressed his body up against her back, and some of his body heat began to seep into her and warm the frozen marrow of her bones. His big, warm hand rested on her hip bone, and she felt him press a soft kiss to the back of her neck. She whimpered with pleasure.
"Just sleep," he murmured. "We'll talk in the morning. Just close your eyes and sleep now, honey." To Sara's surprise, her eyelids felt heavy. She could feel the heat from Grissom's hand spreading through her body, making her muscles go lax.
On the seventh day, Grissom came to her. And on the seventh day, Sara slept.
AN: Don't worry – there'll be a much longer epilogue to this little tale coming soon!