Chapter 7 In Sickness…

"G'night," she said, unable to stop the small smile that was gracing her lips. She shook her head as she pulled back out of the parking lot; this was a lot different than how she expected this week would have gone. Looking in the rearview mirror, she could see that Hannah was still sleeping so she headed straight back to Grissom's townhouse and pulled into the garage. By the time Sara got her inside, the little girl was once again awake and ready to be entertained.

"It's time for bed," Sara told her softly.

"But I'm not tired."

"I think you're more tired than you realize," Sara argued as she ruffled Hannah's curls. "We'll read first, okay? Go ahead and pick a book, I'll be right in." Sara went into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine and filled a spill-proof cup with apple juice. She sat on the bed and set her glass beside her on the nightstand along with her own book. Snuggling under a chenille blanket, she sat back and waited for Hannah to appear. Minutes later, the little girl did come bounding into the room, dressed in her pajamas, and carrying Where the Sidewalk Ends. She climbed up on the bed next to Sara and took the cup of juice while Sara slipped through the book to find where they had left off.

"I want to read it," Hannah said softly.

"You'll learn," Sara promised. "For tonight, I'll read. Okay?"

"Can I learn now?"

"How about you sleep now, and learn tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Sara said with a soft smile. She put her arm around Hannah and opened the book to the next poem, which happened to be the poem that served as the name of the book.

"There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends. "

"What's crimson?"

"A shade of redish pink. Like the color you see when the sun sets over the desert."

"That's pretty."

"Yep." Sara closed the book and put it on the nightstand.

"Why do the kids want the sidewalk to end?"

"I think because if gives them a place to play, a place where they can have fun without the craziness of the adult world."

"Did you ever find it?"

"I don't think I did," Sara said sadly.

"Can I find it?"

"Yes," she said resolutely. "But right now, it's time for bed."

"Sara—" Hannah whined softly.

"Hannah," Sara whined back mockingly. She smiled and helped the little girl under the covers. "It's time for bed." She leaned over and kissed the girl's forehead. "Now close your eyes." Hannah obediently closed them, only to peak out underneath her lashes a second later. "Hannah," Sara said in a soft warning tone. The little girl understood the tone and immediately stopped playing; she closed her eyes and rolled onto her side, hugging Griss closely. Sara brushed a lock of brown hair from her forehead and whispered, "I love you."

"Love you too," Hannah said with a giggle.

"Good night," Sara said firmly as she walked to the door, wine glass and book in hand. She couldn't quite stop smiling though as she walked down the hall and sat down in the living room. Curling onto the sofa, she settled in to read about new techniques in forensic identification. After reading the same paragraph several times, she gave up and got herself ready for bed, joining Hannah and falling into a deep sleep for the first time in months.

She was frightened when she woke to the sound of more than one voice. Hannah was still sleeping peacefully so she crept over to her purse and located her gun, tucking it into the waistband of her pajamas before carefully making her way to the door. She sighed with relief when she realized that at least two of the voices belonged to Nick and Greg. Hiding the gun back in her purse, she quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Greg whistled when he saw her. "Now, there's a woman. Ducky pajamas. I like."

"Shut up Greg, I've got a gun."

"Even sexier," he said jokingly as he and Nick passed Sara carrying a large aquarium filled with some type of spider.

"What's going on?" Her voice was still groggy and she hadn't even thought about her hair until that moment. She ran her hands through the mass of brown curls but knew it wasn't going to help matters much.

"Grissom has used his power for evil," Warrick said with a smile, as he stood in the doorway of the second bedroom.

"He's making you guys move the bugs," Sara said with a laugh. She felt the door open behind her and turned around to see Hannah, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Hey, Hannah. Good Morning. You remember Warrick. Nick and Greg are here too. They're helping Gil move things."

"Okay," the little girl said quietly, not looking up at anyone.

"You okay?" Sara picked her up without waiting for an answer and her heart dropped when she realized that the little girl was radiating with heat. "Hey Rick, tell Gil to come in here," she said softly. She carried Hannah back to bed and laid her there for a minute while she went to the bathroom and located a rag that she drenched in cold water and then wrung out.

"Does anything hurt?"

"My head," Hannah said softly, her throat apparently scratchy. She allowed her head to fall into Sara's lap and she curled up, not apparently interested in doing anything besides sleeping. Sara dabbed the cold cloth on her warm neck and then laid it over her forehead, trying to help sooth away some of the heat. "It pounds. Make it stop."

"I'm sorry, baby doll. I'll see what we can do." Then, Grissom walked in, a concerned expression fixed in place.

"What's going on in here?"

"Someone has a flu," Sara said gently. Grissom sat on the bed next to Sara and reached over to feel Hannah's forehead.

"Well, that's not good, sweetie. What hurts?"

"My head," Hannah repeated, more pitifully this time.

"Well, try to sleep. I'll go find something to fix you right up."

"No aspirin," Sara warned as he stood up.

"I think I can remember that," she said with a nod. He knew as well as she did, if not more, that children weren't supposed to be given anything with aspirin when they had high fevers. "Do you need anything?"

"More juice for Hannah. And maybe ice cream," she added in a whisper.

"Chocolate," Hannah said, her eyes still closed.

"I think you'll be just fine, kid," Grissom said with a laugh. "I'll be right back." He left for the store and after Hannah fell back to sleep, Sara made her way to the kitchen and started making breakfast. After a few minutes, the three coworkers were drawn to the kitchen by the smell of maple syrup and orange juice.

"Sara, I didn't think you could cook."

"I can," she said flatly. "I just don't. There's a difference," she said as she set two plates on the table.

"So, Sar, what's going on here?" Nick posed his question as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, hugging his good friend.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sara, this is insane. You've moved in and started playing house with Grissom. Are you sure about what you're doing?"

"As sure as I'm going to get," Sara answered, biting her lip in thought. "As much as it makes me nervous to start down this road with Gil, that little girl needs us both."

"She couldn't have been luckier in finding new guardians."

"Yeah," Sara scoffed. "Two workaholic geniuses who lack people skills."

"Hey, you've got friends," Warrick insisted.

"And you haven't worked since that little angel showed up at the lab," Nick added.

"It just doesn't feel like enough," Sara admitted.

"Give yourself a break," Nick said with a sigh. "You're a good person, Sara. And that little girl loves you already. You'll be fine."

"Sara, I think the kid is throwing up," Greg said in an alarmed voice from down the hall.

"Greg, you've seen worse," she scolded as she rushed past him and into the bathroom. Sure enough, Hannah was sitting in front of the toilet, throwing up the little bit she had eaten for dinner the night before. Sara pulled back her long brown hair and secured it with a plastic hair clip that she had left on the bathroom counter. Sitting behind the little girl, she held her while she continued to throw up.

"It's okay, try to calm down," she said in a soothing voice as she reached for a cup to fill with water. Hannah has stopped throwing up but she was still retching, her tiny frame heaving as she tried to stop her body from betraying her. "Try to take little breaths," Sara suggested calmly, rubbing the little girl's back. After she finally stopped, she burst into tears, sobbing hysterically, upset over what had just occurred.

"Sweetie, it's okay," Sara said softly. She helped Hannah wipe her mouth and take a few small sips of water. "Shhh," she cooed. "It's okay. Do you want to go back to bed?" Hannah shook her head, snuggled against Sara, and seemed to settle into place.

"Do you think you're going to get sick again?" A nod. "Okay, just try to stay calm, okay? Take little breaths, that helps." Hannah burrowed into Sara, closing her eyes but remaining rigid and at the ready. When she started to gag again, Sara kept her in her lap and gently held the pressure points on the inside of Hannah's left wrist. To the surprise of both, it stopped the stomach contractions and Hannah started breathing normally again.

"How did you do that?" Hannah asked weakly.

"I don't know," Sara admitted in a whisper. She and Hannah were still sitting on the bathroom floor when Grissom returned with the fever medication. He crouched down next to them and gave Hannah a sympathetic half-smile.

"Not feeling so good, sweetie?" Hannah shook her head, but smiled a little bit as she spoke.

"Sara knows magic," she informed him.

"Pressure points," Sara whispered when Grissom looked at her suspiciously. He nodded, understanding what the little girl meant. "Hannah, do you think you're ready to get back in bed? We'll get a bucket to put in there in case you get sick again."

"Okay," the little girl said with a tiny sigh. She pulled her arms around Sara's neck but it was Grissom who lifted her up and then offered his hand to Sara to help her up off the bathroom tile. "I'm sorry," Hannah said weakly as they walked into the bedroom.

"You don't have to be sorry," Sara assured her. "You don't feel good, you can't help it."

"Miss Debbie got mad if I got sick."

"Well, Sara and I are not Miss Debbie," Grissom said firmly. Before he could tuck the little girl back into bed, Sara stopped him, picking out a fresh nightgown.

"You might feel better if you change," she suggested. She and Grissom helped the weak Hannah change into a new, soft cotton nightgown and then tucked her in under the warm covers.

"Too hot," Hannah moaned crossly as she kicked the covers off.

"At least keep the sheet," Sara said as gently pulled it back up over the girl. The four year old was sleeping fitfully within minutes and Sara laid down, exhausted, at the end of the bed.

"Not in here," Grissom said gruffly, as he picked Sara up, "you'll get sick too."

"Put me down," she said faintly, "the guys—"

"Will have something to take back to the henhouse," Grissom said with a chuckle. He carried her into the living room and laid her down on the sofa, tucking a flannel blanket around her before turning back to his colleagues. "We need to get those bugs moved. Sara won't appreciate you three being here when she gets sick."

"You think she will?"

"She's spent the past 48 solid hours with a little girl who now has the stomach flu. I don't think there's a way she wouldn't have gotten it," Grissom answered in a matter-of-fact tone. The four men finished their work and Nick even helped with the dishes before leaving. About two hours after they left, Sara woke up with a start and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face. He waited a moment and entered anyway, kneeling behind her and holding her hair while she relinquished the contents of her stomach. After she finished, she laid her head wearily on the bathtub.

"This is not funny," she snapped when she saw the smirk on his face.

"I know, honey, I'm sorry. But you're not the cheeriest patient."

"This is humiliating. I haven't had the stomach flu since I was five. And now I get sick on your bathroom floor."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"You're such a man."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

"Come on, honey, you should be in bed."

"This is your fault," she said wearily as he picked her up.

"How?"

"I don't know," she whined. "But it is."

"Go to sleep, Sara." He tucked her into bed and checked on Hannah, whose fever was completely broken and falling. He hoped that Sara would recover as quickly; she wouldn't be nearly as cooperative as the four year old.