Sara awoke to a wonderful sound.

A gentle voice, low and steady, breezed softly through the air, tickling at her ears. It was a familiar voice–one that was with her when she was awake and when she was asleep, and also when she was in between the two, drifting in the dense fog of semi-consciousness. She was sure that the familiar voice was her anchor, and she was a ship, saved–at the very last minute–from sinking into the deep, dark depths. Yes, she was saved, in every way imaginable. She was being patched up and pulled home, and she was learning that every time she opened her eyes, Grissom, with his soft, familiar voice, would be there. Her eyelids fluttered and she sighed happily at that thought, listening carefully as she forced herself into consciousness. Her ears continued to soak in his wonderful voice.

He was reading to her, the written words tumbling out of his mouth with subtle passion, with ease. When Sara finally managed to pry one eye open and look over at him, she noticed that the first few buttons of his shirt were undone and that his glasses had slipped down his nose. He looked crumpled and exhausted and completely adorable. Her fingers reached for his.

"Griss," she whispered weakly, her voice so rough that it surprised her. "Wh–what are you reading?"

He looked up quickly and he pushed his glasses back up his nose, his eyes sparkling through the smudged lenses. "Hi, honey," he breathed, as his hand moved to her cheek. His fingertips brushed her cool skin affectionately. "How are you feeling?"

Sara took a slow breath. She had two answers to that question–one for herself and one for Grissom. I feel like crap, she said silently, but out loud, she said: "Much better." She knew she probably didn't look any better, but she thought she'd give it a try anyway.

But just as she expected, Grissom studied her and he shook his head. "You're due for some more morphine," he said, clearly not believing her. "They're easing you off of it, but it's been awhile since–"

"I'm sure a nurse will be in soon," Sara finished for him, smiling faintly. "I'm okay. The pain isn't as bad as before."And that's not really a lie, she told herself, feeling triumphant in a strange way. I did feel much worse before. Not here–out in the middle of nowhere.

Grissom nodded slowly, but he didn't look convinced. "You're recovering from major surgery. It's completely reasonable to be in pain right now," he told her gently.

It better be, because I am, Sara moaned inwardly. But then she noted the sympathetic expression on Grissom's face and right away, she found herself relenting. "Are you sure that truck only ran us off the road? 'Cause it feels like it landed on top of me. It hurts," she admitted, her moan escaping her lips. "But I am okay. At least I will be."

"You'll tell me if you aren't?"

Sara nodded. "I made that promise already."

"Yes, you did. And you've done a good job keeping it."Watching her closely, Grissom held up the glossy paper in his hand. "This is what I was reading, to answer your question," he said, with a small, tired smile. "It's the article–the one I put in your pocket. Do you remember?"

"Yes," she replied. How could I forget? The whole night keeps replaying in my mind."Yes–I remember that. I remember everything about that." For a long moment, she just stared at him lovingly, admiringly. She was beyond touched by the fact that he remembered the article, and by the fact that he'd been reading it to her while she was asleep. And she was beyond grateful for the second chance she'd been given–the chance to really live, the chance to actually experience this new side of Grissom, the side she'd been desperate to see for so long."Thanks, Griss," she whispered, reaching up to touch the hand on her cheek. "Thanks for getting me here."

From the look in his eyes, he'd heard that before. "Sara–" He started, but then he paused, shying away from her. His blue eyes abandoned her brown ones and he stood up slowly, hesitantly, taking a deep breath. "Well, I've been thinking about getting another cup of coffee for awhile now," he said, eyeing the door."If you'll be okay alone for a minute, I'm going to run to the lounge, and then I'll have a look around for a nurse." His chin twitched."You don't need to be in pain right now."

"Grissom–I'm okay," Sara tried to insist, but he was gone before the words left her mouth. She shuddered. What was that all about? What did I say? she wondered, as fear gripped her all over again. It all happened so fast. Does he regret everything we talked about? Is he going to take it all back and pretend it never happened? Did I actually manage to convince myself that he wouldn't? Now she really was in pain. Would he be sitting with you, reading to you if he planned to just forget everything that happened? Does he really feel guilty, just like Catherine said?

Sinking down as far as she could into her pillow, Sara sought comfort for her aching brain. She tilted her head slightly, taking the pressure off the bump at the back and the cuts in her scalp. But the pressure of her thoughts remained. Her gaze wandered along with her heavy thoughts before coming to rest on the window, where gentle drops of rain glimmered through the glass. But her mind kept on going, processing the day, remembering what it felt like to wake up, again and again, to find Grissom at her side. His presence made even the most painful moments bearable. Her doctors' visits were the worst, and every time they tried to explain her extensive injuries, she was transported back to the cold, hard ground in the middle of nowhere, with Grissom hovering over her, trying to help her. But just knowing that he was still with her made all the difference, and she relied on his strength to help her focus on the progress she was making. In fact, earlier that day, during one of her doctors' visits, the decision had been made to move her out of the ICU and into a regular room. That move had made her entirely happy, because Greg and the rest of the team had finally been able to visit her. And those visits were the next best thing to having Grissom at her side.

Greg's visit was by far the funniest one, and that didn't surprise Sara at all. He had come into her room with about a dozen well-rehearsed, lighthearted jokes and a broad grin that had instantly eased her pain. The effect his visit had on her was remarkable and Sara knew exactly why. Greg had, after all, become one of her closest friends in the last year and she'd learned to rely on his hidden strength, his comfort. In all of those times when she felt like Grissom was forever out of her reach, Sara had managed to find happiness in Greg's friendship. It was a unique happiness–one that she treasured, one that was certainly helping her now. She just hoped that someday, she would be able to give happiness back to him. When he needed it.

Warrick's visit was the shortest, but not for any specific reason. It just seemed to Sara that he said what he needed to and offered what he could in a smaller amount of time. She'd taken just as much from his short visit as she had from everyone else's longer ones. It was just different with him. Instead of words, Warrick had given her comfort with his eyes, and he'd given her a sense of strength that she would never be able to explain. Just looking into his eyes and searching their depths left her feeling stronger, safer. And she was more than grateful.

Brass' visit was the quietest, which had definitely seemed odd to Sara. The delightfully sarcastic detective was usually the one making jokes, filling the room with his hearty laugh and his teddy-bear personality. But he was silent at her side, his fingers on her shoulder the only evidence that he was even there at all. Sara wondered if he thought that she was asleep, since her eyes were only half-open and glazed from all the drugs she'd been given. But she didn't wonder for long. Somehow, she managed to figure out the reason why he wasn't speaking. It wasn't because he didn't want to–it was because he couldn't. He was actually speechless.

Nick's visit was certainly the fuzziest. Sara had just been given another significant dose of morphine before he'd come in, and the only thing she could really remember was the tight, hoarse sound of his voice. She didn't remember the words he'd said to her, or how much time he'd spent at her side, but she did remember the comforting energy he'd brought into the room and the feeling of his warm hand on her cold one. She remembered his gentle gaze and the sound of his nervous breaths. She remembered realizing that he'd been scared too.

Catherine's visit was the most informative. From her blonde colleague, Sara learned–despite her drugged state–that many things happened after she lost consciousness. Her heart rate had skyrocketed during that conversation, as she learned just how hard Grissom fought and how desperate he'd been to get her to safety, to save her life. The details were both horrific and heartwarming, and Sara had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that they were talking about her. She was the damsel in distress in Catherine's tale and Grissom was the humble hero, the knight who's armour hid so much needless guilt and so much longing. He was chasing miracles, praying for the chance to love. She was the beloved.

It had all brought her to tears.

And now she was in tears again–tears of pain, confusion, and desire, all of them flowing together.

"Sara? You okay?"

Wiping her cheeks with weak fingers, she turned her head to find a very concerned Grissom in the doorway. "You're back," was all she said, as a hint of scarlet coloured her pale, wet cheeks. Now sit down and tell me what you're thinking!

He quickly answered part of her silent command, taking back the seat that he'd made his own and setting his cup of coffee on the rolling table next to her bed. "I talked to one of the nurses," he told her, his eyes still avoiding hers. "She said she'd be in as soon as she could."

"I'm sure I'll make it until then."

"Honey–you're crying," Grissom whispered, between uneasy breaths."Is it–"

"The pain? Sort of." Sara flinched, her eyes drifting shut for a moment. She managed to bite back her cries of desperation, ignoring her need to know exactly what was going on in Grissom's mind. "How's the party?" she mumbled out, hoping to keep the conversation comfortable, at least for the next few minutes.

Grissom leaned back in his chair. "The party?"

"In the lounge? Where you went to get your coffee?" Her response was dark and tense, but she hadn't meant for it to come out that way.

"Oh–well, I'm afraid it's not quite a party, Sara," Grissom replied. "Greg's asleep again, so naturally, the fun has been reduced–and in this case, to Nick and Warrick's game of crazy eights."

"Crazy eights? They must be pretty bored."

"Don't worry about them. They're fine. They can't wait to come in and see you again."

"And what about Greg? Sounds like he should go home and get some rest," Sara said, her voice now sounding cracked and painful. Her strangled cries were getting stronger, becoming heavy in her throat and chest.

Grissom nodded slowly, and then he quickly changed the subject. "Uh, Catherine's been talking to Doc Robbins and he sends his best wishes," he told her."And the whole lab's putting together a care package for you. I told them to wait and give it to you when they transfer you back to Vegas."

Sara bit her lip."Tomorrow, right?"

Grissom nodded again. "Tomorrow afternoon is what I heard. As long as you're still stable and responding to your meds."

"Oh, I'll be stable," Sara said determinedly.

"Of course you will be."Grissom smiled, but it wavered. "We'll get you back to Desert Palm and get you settled in, and then–"

"And then what, Grissom?"

"And then you get a lot of rest and you recover."

"I'm already recovering." The question is, are you? Reaching with every ounce of strength she had, Sara grasped Grissom's arm, feeling her way to his palm. When she found it, she slipped her fingers into his so that their hands were intertwined, held together in the tightest squeeze she could manage. "I like holding your hand,"she whispered, as their gazes finally met again. "I don't want to stop."

Grissom's eyes widened. "I don't want you to stop."

"You sure?" she asked, as her heart rate increased. "Because I'm not sure if you're sure about that. I don't know how you're really feeling right now." Her vision started to become blurry. "I need to know what scared you off."

He sighed, guilt flooding his expression. "Nothing scared me off, Sara. Honey–it's nothing like that." Carefully, he bent over, bringing his head closer to her. "I don't want you to let go of my hand," he said softly, practically begging. "I don't ever want that to happen."

A warm wave of relief surged through Sara's sore body. Thank God, she wanted to shout, as loudly as she could. He's not going to push me away! He doesn't want to forget everything that happened! She wanted to just thrust her arms out and pull Grissom into the world's largest, tightest hug, but she knew that her broken ribs would protest. They were already protesting, and she'd barely moved at all.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Grissom continued timidly. "That's the last thing I wanted to do. I just needed to make sure you're taken care of."

"Well, thank-you, Griss," Sara whispered. "But, uh, you need to be taken care of too."

Grissom held up his bandaged wrist. "I'm fine. This is the worst of it," he told her. "It's sprained. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not talking about that."

Grissom shrugged. "Well, I'm not as tired as I look," he assured her."When Catherine's not telling everyone that I finally got my head out of the microscope, she's telling me to go home, so don't worry, honey, I've heard it already." He sighed, the fingertips of his free hand now brushing gentle circles on Sara's arm."What Cath doesn't seem to understand is that home is a good hour and half drive from here, if not closer to two hours. That's pretty far to go for a shower and a nap."

"She's worried about you," Sara quietly replied, her voice low. And I am too. I guess no one's thinking straight right now. Not Catherine. Not us. No one. Sara took a careful, quivering breath."Griss–you really should get some rest. If someone can drive you home for awhile–"

"I'm not leaving."

And I don't want you to leave me! But I'm concerned. I'm scared. For once, I can't read you! Something's bothering you and I don't know how to help! She stared at him, her eyes still glazed and glistening with tired tears. "I'll be okay. As long as you–" her voice wavered. "As long as you come back, I'll be okay. You need to rest too. You deserve that. You deserve more than that–"

"Stop, Sara," Grissom said firmly, choking out the words. "I'm not leaving, okay? I'm fine." He tried to straighten up but he shuddered in his seat, and Sara felt his fingers tremble. He wasn't fine.

"Grissom," she said, in a tiny, panicked voice. "What is it? What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm alright."

"No, you're not," Sara insisted. "Look–Catherine told me everything," she revealed shyly. "She, uh, she told me that things wouldn't have turned out this way if you, um, if you hadn't–"

"Sara–" Grissom tried to stop her. Pain filled his blue eyes and he shut them quickly, tightly. "Don't. Please."

But I need to do this. We need to do this. "She, uh, she said that you feel responsible, Griss," Sara breathed. "Is that what this is about? Is that why you left before? Was it because I thanked you?"

His eyes remained closed, but he didn't pull away from her. "I am responsible for what happened to you, Sara," Grissom said tightly, his voice barely audible. "I was the one who drove us off the road. I made that decision."

"But you didn't have a choice!" Grissom! You know that as well as I know that! How can you feel guilty for something that could never, ever be your fault? Sara tried to squeeze his hand even tighter but she was too tired, too weak. "I don't want you to feel this way," she whispered. "I could never blame you for this. Please don't blame yourself."

"I can't seem to stop," he sighed, gritting his teeth. "Even if it is the most irrational thing in the world, I can't stop."

Tears poured down Sara's cheeks. "You have to," she begged. "What happened to us is not your fault. Please, just let it go and let me be grateful. Please. Tell me how to help you do that."

Grissom's eyes were suddenly red-rimmed, flooding, glimmering. Sara's heart skipped a beat. "We're not going to find that truck, Sara," he blurted out, as one tear threatened to trail away from his eye."You know that and I know that. We're not going to find it. We're never going to know–"

Shaking wildly, Sara put her hand to Grissom's cheek, feeling the warmth there."I think I'm going to be okay with that," she said slowly, hoarsely. "I don't know why, but I'm okay with not knowing. Just this once."

"But I'm not okay with it." Grissom's voice faltered. "We almost lost you, Sara. I almost lost you. And–" His eyes fell, his gaze fixing on the floor. "I, uh, I guess I don't want to be the only one–" He trailed off, sounding very uncertain.

Only one? What is he talking about? God, he's so upset! Sara's eyes widened. "I don't understand."

Still staring at the floor, he continued faintly. "I, uh, I want closure," he admitted. "I want you to have closure. We give that to other people, every day. And now I want it. I–I want someone else to blame."

"But, Griss, we can't always have that. You're the one who taught me that–" She stopped to catch her breath. You taught me that when I didn't want to learn! You made me learn that I can't fix everything, no matter how hard I try. You can't fix everything either! We don't have that power.

Sara coughed, causing Grissom to look up in alarm. "Easy, Sara," he told her, as he leaned even closer. "I'm sorry. Just breathe, okay?"

"Don't be sorry," Sara sighed gently. "You're telling me how you feel and that's what I want. It's what I've always wanted."

Grissom's face was pale, his eyes still glistening. "But I am sorry," he said. "For everything. This shouldn't have happened to you. You shouldn't have to go through this. I wish I could erase it–"

"I don't."

"I wish I could take it away–"

"I don't."

Grissom seemed shocked. "Why?"

"Because as much pain as it caused, I did get something good out of it," Sara breathed, blinking away her tears. "And I hope you feel that way too."

He was silent.

Sara continued quietly."I love you, Griss," she told him, with a soft, glowing smile. "I love you and we're both still here. Together. That's all that matters to me."

Before Grissom could respond, a single tear escaped his eye. Sara watched as it trickled down his cheek, knowing very well that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A moment later, she felt his lips on her forehead and then on her own lips, and she could feel that beauty. And she could still feel it when he pulled away, when he let a few more tears run free. Remaining silent, Grissom turned to look out the window.

His tears matched the gentle rain.

TBC

Author's Note: Thank-you so much for reading! To those of you who have been sticking with me despite the slow updates–you're amazing! Thanks to all those who reviewed the last two chapters! Special thanks to committed, CSINut214, microgirl, sara kicks ass, Sonoali, GracefulBee, Trialia, drakien, Ashleigh24, leddy, Miss Adelon, Lanta, berta101, Eukanooba, DaVinci13, gabesaunt, jtbwriter, DolphinAnimagus, Chegs74, brainfear, Saralove33:), Sidle Chick, Adenara Yatman, No-one in particular, djkittycat, msgrits, Sara Sidle 87, Lin, cjtylr74, Rachel, ToMyGrave, gfhdfhd, tvspaz626, SMKLegacy, CSL, Aidrianna, Tarrabeena, lalaforte, Lily of the Shadow, csiobsessed, snackattack, Scratty-Gal, CrysWimmer, Elialys and anyone I missed!

Thanks!

Jazz