Disclaimer: Nope don't own them or anything like it.
Spoilers: It's set Post Grave Danger so spoilers for Season 5 & 6
Author's Note: No one beta'd so any errors our mine own. R&R let me know what you think.
Opening her eyes cautiously in case the lights were too bright, Sara was surprised when to find it wasn't that bright at all. She guessed by the weak light coming in through the windows it was late afternoon or early evening. This meant she had gotten more sleep today than she normally got over the course of a couple days. With that much sleep she should feel rested, but she didn't she still felt tired like when she pulled multiple shifts without sleep.
Looking around she noticed the differences from the last time she'd been awake. She no longer wore the mask with the warmed moist air, but still had an i.v. running fluids into her right arm. There was less equipment around her so it looked like at some point while she slept she'd been moved out of the Critical Care Unit into a regular private room. Her body was still sore and she was tired, but Sara felt much more like herself. After a quick patting of the bed around her, she found the remote to the bed and raised herself into a comfortable sitting position.
Grissom was still sitting in the chair next to her bed, wearing the same clothes he'd had on at the start of shift. He was sound asleep; making soft snoring sounds, his chin was tucked into his chest, while his arms were wrapped around a red leather bound journal with gold trim. She smiled as one of the things she'd wondered about the private man was answered. He snored. It wasn't loud, just a quiet humph as he breathed deeply.
While tempted to wake him Sara knew he needed his sleep. Watching him sleep it was easy to imagine him as a little boy staying up late to read so engrossed until he fell asleep. Her contemplation was interrupted when the noise he was making changed. It sounded like a whimper and based on her own experiences she guessed Grissom was having a terrible nightmare. It wasn't surprising that someone who didn't share much normally hadn't spoken about having them, but she didn't know anyone in their field who didn't have them at least occasionally.
"Sara." The word was whispered painfully and with so such sadness it broke her heart. As a rule she wouldn't try to guess what the subject of his nightmare might be, but after last night she had a good idea. She'd had plenty of nightmares after Nicky's abduction and now was watching Grissom have one that was probably about her disappearance.
"Grissom wake up." She called out. He didn't move and she could tell by his face that the dream was getting worse because it was making him more agitated and distressed. Sara would have moved off the bed to reach out to him immediately, but didn't want to pull the i.v. out. Moving towards the right side of the bed she was able to pull the bag off the stand. Slipping out of the hospital bed she grimaced when her feet contacted the cold tile under, but ignored the physical discomfort and moved towards him. Leaning close she rested her hand on his shoulder. "Grissom wake up."
Still he didn't respond to either her voice or touch. Her breath caught as the noises he started making sounded more like choked sobs. Moving her palm up to his cheek she tried again. "Gil I'm okay please wake up." He pressed his cheek into palm, but didn't seem to be waking up. "Baby please wake up for me." When his breathing changed she knew he was waking up finally so she moved her hand back to his shoulder before pulling away and getting back into bed.
Sara was shaken by what had just happened trying to ignore the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. None of her fantasies or years working with him had prepared her for how strong her reaction would be to watching him sleep, having nightmares or waking up. His first name and the endearment had slipped out before she could stop them. His cheek had been delightfully warm against her palm and she'd barely kept herself from doing more. She'd wanted to run her fingers through his hair, brushing her lips against his and looking into his fabulous azure eyes as he returned to her.
While he was coming back to the real world she tried to rebuild some of her defenses to him and regain the control over her impulses. The man had refused her invitation to dinner and resisted all of her signals of interest in him as a man for more than a decade. Sara had all but thrown herself at him over the years and the rejections stung her pride. She'd decided long ago that she wasn't chasing him any longer. The ball was in his court, it would be up to Grissom if anything was to happen between them.
He shifted in the chair and the book he'd been holding fell to the floor waking him up the rest of the way. His eyes opened and shut before he slipped his glasses off. Holding them gently with one hand, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other. With his eyes closed he rolled his head in circles as he began to stretch the muscles that long hours in the visitor chair had stiffened. She watched as he pulled his body different ways listening to the quiet pops of muscle and bone worked the kinks out. The shirt he was wearing pulled tightly across his chest and shoulders giving definition to areas he normally kept hidden.
He needs a good massage. Sara thought briefly then tried to disregard the desire to offer him one and the itch in her hands to feel more of that warm skin against her own. Then he stood and her breath caught for a moment as her mind changed direction. Grissom always wore loose fitting clothes at work so when he stretched again her thoughts were hijacked, morphing into something altogether different when she caught a glimpse of enough of his anatomy to recognize that Grissom had nothing to be ashamed of in bed.
She was grateful his eyes were still closed so he didn't see the evidence of her interest; the rosy cheeks, darkened eyes and the nipples thrusting up from under the gown. Now that she was safely back in bed she hoped that by resettling the blankets and crossing her arms over her chest she could hide that sign of her arousal and hope that he'd just write the others off as symptoms of her hypothermia.
"Hey you're awake." Sara nodded her head; she wasn't sure what she could safely say in this state without risking over-talking and screwing up their relationship more than she had with the dinner invitation. "You're still hungry right?"
"Famished."
"Good. I'll be right back." Grissom stepped out of the room, but returned a couple minutes later with a cream colored cotton touristy tote bag with a picture of the Las Vegas skyline at night on one side. He wheeled the bedside hospital table over to her. Then like a magician pulling rabbits out of his hat, Grissom pulled out a placemat, two different sized thermoses and several plastic containers. After untwisting the containers' caps he poured small amounts of warm liquid into each of the plastic tops.
"Your Doctor is insisting you drink warm sweet drinks and warm food. Al's wife made this stuff up and dropped it off for you. This is honey sweetened mint tea and Miso soup."
"That was really nice of Mrs. Robbins'." She sipped the Miso soup which was perfect, just the right amount of spicy and creamy. It was only now that food was handy that she realized how ravenous she really was and how long ago her last meal was. Nibbling on the vegetables and diced tofu she thought about how the food was not only nourishing her body, but nurturing her soul. It reminded her of the chicken noodle soup she used to eat as a child when she was ill. Holding out the empty cup she smiled as he refilled it.
"Remind me to get the recipe I don't think I've seen you eat so much in ages." Grissom teased when he refilled both cups for the third time. He was glad Sara was eating; her Doctor had expressed concerns that her exhaustion and slight figure could be a negative factor in her recovery or fighting off things like pneumonia or infections. The implications were terrifying, they'd only just saved her from drowning, but the Doctor had suggested there were other ways they might still lose Sara.
It had been easy to promise to make sure she ate, had less stress at work and had more chances to rest. Deciding that he would do whatever was necessary to ensure she did just that. Even if it meant moving her into the townhouse for a few weeks. Not that having Sara close enough to touch twenty-four seven would really be a hardship now that he was determined to do something about 'this.'
"Sara we need to talk about some things before the others get here."
"Oh-kay." She picked up the cup of warm tea sipping the sweetened tea. The taste was as familiar and comforting as the green box with the bear family that it came in.
"We haven't caught the guy who took you." He paused waiting to see if this would upset her. She just nodded, taking another sip of tea and he wondered how she could take that information so calmly when the implications scared the hell out of him. A knock on the door prevented him from saying more.
"Detective Vega." Sara smiled a little in greeting.
"Hi Sara. I need to take your statement. Are you feeling up to it?" She nodded.
"I'll be just outside." Grissom whispered as he got up leaving the detective alone with his 'victim' for questioning. It was difficult to think of Sara that way and even harder to see her that way. Leaning against the wall outside her room he tried to process his feelings. Sara was the strongest person he knew after having already faced so much in her childhood it hurt him seeing her put through more pain and not being able to protect her.
The instinct to protect her was strong and one he'd fought for so long, almost as long as the attraction which might be something more. An automatic mental reflex shied away from what that something was. Forcing his mind back to his feelings for Sara he knew that for too long he'd been afraid of so many things; of losing Sara either to another man, her career or death. Even though he knew she was safe lying in a bed less than six feet away the fear gnawed at him, fresher now than earlier because of the nightmare. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamt of her in danger or dead, there'd been a constant stream of them over the years starting with the Strip Strangler case. For weeks he'd dreamt of Sara being attacked, raped and murdered.
They'd been getting steadily worse over the years. After Debbie Marlin's case he'd dreamt of her throat slashed or his murdering her. The call to pick her up at the station because of nearly getting a DUI had spawned dreams of twisted metal and screeching breaks. Then there were the ones after the attack at the state hospital were he watched unable to stop or save her as she was attacked, raped and had her throat slashed.
The new nightmare built on familiar themes from the others only this dream was also different. Along with the familiar fear there had also been unbearable despair when he admitted he'd been too late. That Sara was gone because he'd been too late to love her and too to save her life. He couldn't let that dream become a reality and the despair haunted him like his own ghost of Christmas past. Closing his eyes he whispered a prayer that he now he wasn't too late to rescue their future.
