A/N: To all my faithful readers. This will be my last fanfiction. My life is taking me in a different direction, and I am working on an inspirational/theological book that should be published by Christmas. I felt compelled to finish this for your sakes. It's been fun, and your encouragement has made every story a joy to post.
Chapter 8 – Happily Ever After
Sara heard, saw, felt, and tasted white noise. She felt as if static had surrounded her, and she wanted nothing more than to turn it off. Finding a pocket of darkness she was pulled to it, but a tug on her hand stopped her. There was a reason why she should fight through the pain; she just couldn't remember what. Turning one last time toward the darkness, something in the fabric of her being drove her away from the peace the blackness offered to discover the promise that she knew laid beyond the pain.
The first real feeling she could identify was an ache in her throat. She tried to swallow, but it only made it worse. Turning her head, she felt a tug at the side of her mouth.
A low mumble filtered through her right ear. She recognized that they were words, but not their meaning.
Attempting to shift slightly, a pain she had not noticed radiating from her left hip, shot up to her heart.
Groaning, she felt a cool touch on her forehead.
"Sara," a voice called out to her. "Don't move. Dr. Roarke is coming."
'Don't move. Got it, I already figured that one out Grissom,' she thought without realizing she recognized the voice. Remaining still for a moment, her brain caught up with her thoughts, 'Grissom? He's in the static?'
"Sara, can you open you eyes?" a sweet voice asked her.
'Why would I want to do that when it's so bright with my eyes closed,' she thought sarcastically, but decided to try. 'If this is as bad as moving, whoever you are, you'll be sorry for suggesting this.'
Testing the waters, she managed to open her eye lids a crack. They fluttered at the resistance. To her surprise the brightness dissipated the wider her eyes opened.
Searching the room, Sara tried to assess where she was without moving her head. Catching a glimpse of a silhouette to her right, she allowed her head to roll slowly until she found her self eye to eye with the man she loved.
"Hey there," he said, his words carrying an impossible level of relief. "Don't try to talk until they take the tube out."
Bring her hand up, she felt like there was a great weight strapped around her wrist. Feeling the tube, and tape, she pleaded with him with her eyes, and signed the word "now" one letter at a time with her fingers.
He chuckled softly, "You're in no position to make demands."
Glaring at him, she rolled her head back to find a familiar face looking at her.
"Hi Sara. Do you remember me? I'm Dr. Allison Roarke. I was at the crime scene," the petite woman explained. "I need to listen to your lungs, and then we can take the intubation tube out."
Nodding, Sara was willing to endure whatever she had to, to be free from the device. Waiting patiently, her eyes drifted shut as she processed the events that landed her in the hospital. She had joked around with Grissom while she was pinned in the rubble, but the fear had been deeply rooted, and some residual feelings lingered.
"Hey, hey, no sleeping," Grissom misinterpreted her actions. "You just took a 17 hour nap."
Her eyes opened, she hadn't realized he'd been waiting so long for her to come around. Signing quickly//You look like crap. Did you sleep/
Looking up at the doctor, Grissom reminded her of a child who been caught.
"Ok, ready?" Allison asked, clearly oblivious to the private conversation.
Sara offered a slight nod.
"Alright, I want you to blow out on 3," the doctor instructed, while she removed the medical tape, disconnected the ventilator, and gripped the end of the plastic. "1, 2, 3, blow."
Sara completed the task as asked, and found herself coughing uncontrollably. Tears stung her eyes, as pain racked her body.
Grissom was instantly at her side. If he got any closer to her, he would have been lying in her bed. Taking some ice chips Dr. Roarke offered, Grissom brought one to her lips. "Here honey. This will make your throat feel better," he explained stroking her hair.
Allowing the ice to melt slowly in her mouth, Sara closed her eyes. Grissom's touch comforted her, and she let herself relax slightly.
Noting the time the tube was removed on Sara's chart, Allison looked through the medication record, "How's the pain management?"
Clearing her throat, Sara thought about the question and her pain. "That depends," she started slowly. "How drugged am I right now?"
Smiling knowingly, Allison wrote on the chart again, "You're due for some more vicodin in an hour. We can change the prescription to percocet. Do you think you need Tylenol in the meantime?"
"Please," she asked. Now that she was aware of the pain in her hip, it was growing exponentially.
Grissom looked on with concern, but remained silent.
Allison pushed the call button, and requested a nurse to administer the drugs. "Ok, I also need to run through some basic neuro tests to determine if you've suffered any serious side affects from shock and loss of blood," she explained matter of factly.
"Sounds like I missed some drama," Sara answered, glancing at Grissom. The events after they had freed her were fuzzy at best.
Taking her hand, Grissom brought it to his lips as he remembered the turmoil they had all experienced. "I'm going to step out and call the gang while the doctor checks you over for brain damage," he teased lightly.
"It was only a matter of time," Sara told him pointing to her head with a slight smile. She watched him turn awkwardly and leave the room.
"He cares a great deal for you," Dr. Roarke's voice caused Sara to turn her attention back to the woman standing over her.
"Yeah, that or he's just naturally socially awkward," she replied.
"Ok Sara. I want you to remember these three words: train, book, insect, and coffee cup. Got'em?" Allison asked and proceeded after receiving a nod. Handing her patient a clip board and pen she continued, "The first page is a blank clock. I want you to fill in the numbers and draw the hands to indicate 7:35."
Feeling slightly like a child, Sara complied with the request.
--/--
Enduring an hour of simple tests involving her coordination, reflexes, eye movement, touch, and taste Sara felt exhausted. The Tylenol that had been administered mid test, was only modestly suppressing the pain.
"So I'm assuming no brain damage? How about the leg?" she asked a distant fear coloring her words.
Finishing her notes, the surgeon looked up. "You're in for some intense physical therapy, but you should be good as new in a couple months. Just stay out of collapsing buildings, and you'll make it," she explained returning the clip board to the foot of the bed. "The nurse should be in here shortly with the percocet."
Nodding, she closed her eyes. "Got it, no collapsing buildings and drugs are on the way."
"They'll be moving you out of recovery this morning. Until then no more than two visitors at a time," Allison instructed.
Sara opened her eyes in confusion. 'When were there more than two people in here?' she asked herself. Following the doctor's gaze toward the door, she noticed a crowd hovering. Smiling Sara nodded toward the night shift crew, "You're all gonna have to draw straws to see you gets to come in."
Greg nodded to his right, "Actually, there's a really hot nurse over there. I can wait."
Grissom glared, Sara smiled.
As if on cue a young blonde entered the room.
Greg squirmed uncomfortably, "Hey, the nurse—"
"—is not interested," she interrupted. "But I do have some percocet for Ms. Sidle."
Moving toward the door, Dr. Roarke addressed the group. "She'll be asleep in about twenty minutes. You can all come after 3 p.m., and she'll be moved to the general admissions floor. No rules on numbers down there, and they have nurses too," she finished her gaze drifting to Greg as she left the area.
"We're all really glad you're ok Sar," Nick told her from the door.
His actions made her smile. "I think standing and shouting in the doorway counts as a visitor as well," she teased her eyelids already feeling heavy. "Thanks for being here guys."
Hearing a chorus of well wishing, Sara watched as each one of her friends turned, leaving Grissom standing alone, outlined by the fluorescent light from the hallway.
He watched the rest of his team walk toward the elevators, and turned to find Sara studying him. "What?"
"You need sleep," she told him.
Walking up to her bed, he sat on the edge taking her hand. "They brought me a cot," he explained, and then showed her his hospital band. "They weren't going to let me stay all night, so I convinced Dr. Roarke I needed to be admitted for a mild concussion."
"Wow, she seemed so much smarted than that. I'm surprised she fell for it," Sara noted.
Shrugging, he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "She wasn't the problem. It was Nurse Ratchet on the night shift. Allison helped me find the loop hole."
"Ah, partners in crime," she formulated, her eyes drifting shut. "You should sleep."
"As soon as you do," he promised.
She took his hand, and smiled. "I love you," she whispered softly.
A smile lit up his entire face. "Marry me," he whispered back.
Shock gave way to a joy she didn't know was possible. "Marry you?" Sara asked and watched him nod his head like a little boy at Christmas. "I'd be honored."
--/--
Sara watched Grissom turn the corner toward his town house. "I thought we were going to stop by my apartment first," she asked him in confusion.
Reaching across the armrest, he took her hand in his. "It's been taken care," he told her with a wink.
Fighting the smile that she was sure was a permanent fixture on her face, she turned to look out the window. "I don't know that I trust your ability to coordinate my clothes."
"I thought you'd be more grateful to be out of the hospital after a week and a half," he teased her.
Pulling into the driveway, Sara wasn't surprised to see familiar cars parked along the street. Greg was opening her door before Grissom had the car in park. "Easy Greg, we just left the hospital," she warned him, taking his offered hand.
Leaning heavily on her friend, she used her cane in her free hand to steady her.
Grissom ran up to the door, and opened it for the pair.
Sara could sense the two men were overly excited, and it was starting to concern her. Before she could ask what they were up to, she heard a roar of "welcome homes". Scanning the familiar faces of the night shift, she noticed the living room looked different. "Hey, that's my chair," she commented, touched Grissom thought to go to the effort to move her chair. Stairs weren't an option for her for at least a month and they agreed she would stay with him.
The crowd made way for her, and she sank into her favorite chair. Then she noticed the framed picture of her brother, several movies that she knew were hers, her plant, and all her books. She looked at her fiancée but was unsure what to say in the presence of their coworkers.
Greg, for his part, was too excited to worry about tact. "We moved all your stuff here!"
Grissom leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "They know," he whispered in her ear.
Surprised, Sara looked quickly from Grissom to Nick, and then to Greg, who was bouncing with anticipation. "I figured it out!" he told her.
"Yeah? Was it when he kissed her, or when you found out he proposed?" Warrick asked him sarcastically.
Sara shook her head while she processed the information. They knew they were engaged.
"Na ah, it was before she even went to the crime scene…"
She heard Greg talking, but wasn't listening to him. "They know, know?"
Catherine laughed, "Yeah well when he showed up to the lab with that goofy grin for the second night, it was pretty easy to figure out."
Grissom searched her face, hoping she wasn't angry.
"So we can car pool now?" she asked him lightly and kissed him on the lips.
Nick handed her a champagne glass. "Don't worry, it's nonalcoholic. Don't want you mixing those drugs…" he explained.
Laughter filled the room. Greg flipped on the radio, only to be pushed away by Warrick, who took control. Nick ran out to the patio to check on the grill, and Grissom slid onto the arm of her chair. Leaning back he draped his arm around her, and listened to Catherine explaining her interrogation technique she had used on him.
Sara leaned her head against his chest laughing, and he instantly knew if nothing good ever happened to him again he would be the happiest man that ever lived.
THE END