Chapter Two: Very Bad Things and Very Good Things

Sara closed her eyes and whimpered. The pain in her body was a dreadful reminder of her mortality and she thought maybe now would be a tremendous time to remind her of something good. Grissom was good and he made her feel good. She hadn't felt quite so good in a long time before Grissom. Oddly, one of the worst memories she had overlapped with one of the best. It was true that sometimes, good things can come out of very bad things…

- - -

"I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears
And listen"

"Heart of Life" (John Mayer)

- - -

She was going to take a long walk around Desert Palm Hospital. The waiting room was stuffy.The paint on the walls was a hideously pasty taupe color that was probably named something ridiculous like "Crouton" or "Moose Antler". She rolled her eyes and stood up in a huff. This earned her a look from Grissom who was sitting in the chair beside her.

"You okay?" Grissom asked her and Warrick stirred in his position in the corner. He had been dozing quietly for the past ten minutes. She wished she could.

She nodded in Warrick's direction. "How does he sleep in these chairs? They're so uncomfortable."

Scratchy and too firm. They smelled of disinfectant, and for some reason it mattered that they were a rather unattractive purple color. "Plush Purple" or "Plum" no doubt.

Grissom frowned. "He's exhausted. Aren't you?"

Everyone but Warrick, Grissom, and Sara had gone home to sleep a few hours while Nick was in recovery. Grissom had insisted. But insisting with Sara often meant an unwanted argument and Warrick, though exhausted beyond measure, felt too guilty to leave.

Sara ignored the question. "I'm going for a walk. It's stuffy in here."

"If you want to go home, I promise I will call you as soon as Nick—"

She cut him off. "I don't want to go home, Grissom."

She really didn't .Despite her discomfort and distaste. Despite how utterly drained she was. Despite how much she wanted to change clothes… it was a hell of a lot better than sitting at home stewing over life and death. Every time she imagined Nick in that box, her lungs became smaller, her eyes became watery, and her skin crawled. It was too much.

Grissom understood this, she knew. He simply nodded and smiled sadly.

"I'll be back soon." He nodded again and she turned on her heel, exiting the depressing, taupe-colored room.

She wandered the hospital aimlessly with a bottle of Diet Coke in her hand that she couldn't seem to drink and a Snickers bar in her pocket that she couldn't seem to eat. She got off the elevator at the fourth floor and knew immediately where she was: the maternity ward.

The contrast between the waiting rooms here and the ones near the ICU was startling and obvious. The walls were painted soft and subtle shades of violet. Paints that probably had thoughtful, uplifting names such as "Dream Dust" or "Lilac Frost".

She walked down the hallway toward the babies that lay on the other side of a large wall of glass. She sighed at their tiny bodies. Some were screaming, some were sleeping, and others were simply taking it all in. So she admired them and couldn't help but smile. She had needed this. To see something beautiful and sinless in a city bathed in sin.

Her eyes landed on a rather chubby boy with staggeringly thick black curls. His eyes were open, as open as they could be, and he was silently staring above him. His mouth opened every now and then as if tasting the air.

She had never imagined herself a mother, but there was no point in denying the beauty of a newborn child. She swore her uterus skipped a beat.

She inched closer to the glass and whispered, "Hey there, little guy."

"Which one is yours?" a deep, familiar voice asked from behind her.

Making sure there were no rogue tears on her cheeks, she turned her head around and gave a tight laugh and a wry grin. "How absurd."

Grissom was standing before her with his hands in his pockets and a sad, crooked smile on his face. He looked fatigued and slightly pale, but he was still handsome and solid. He gave a visible swallow as he walked up beside her, facing the glass. They both gazed at the babies in silence for what was probably only a few minutes, but felt like many.

Finally Sara exhaled and said, "So tiny and vulnerable. So…" she trailed off and sighed again.

"Innocent," Grissom said, finishing her thought exactly.

Sara nodded. "They have no idea," she paused, "what they're going to have to face."

"No, they don't." She looked over at him to find him shaking his head from side to side. He looked sad and defeated and Sara wished she could hug him.

"Sometimes I feel like it's cruel to even bring a child into this world," she shared, maybe just to see what Grissom would say.

"I agree," he said immediately.

If she were expecting platitudes about how good life could truly be, she would have been rather disappointed. Grissom had a habit of playing Devil's advocate, just to make you think. It touched her that he had held back on that and was being truly honest with himself and her.

A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it with her hand. He glanced over at her and his features softened as he reached out his hand to rest tenderly on her arm.

"Come here," he said in a low, intimate tone and he lightly pulled her into an embrace.

Somewhere underneath the dirt and grime of the last excruciating hours, Grissom smelled uniquely good. He smelled like warmth to her, like the color orange might smell. Some inviting color like "Autumn Harvest" or "Arizona Sunset". She rested her head on his shoulder and shed a few tears for innocence as his hand lovingly smoothed over her hair and back. She tried not to linger on the abnormality of the moment.

He was warm, soft, and beautiful. She had needed comfort and she had found it.

After what was many minutes, but felt like few, Grissom whispered into her ear, "I was looking everywhere for you."

The chill that ran up her spine caused her to pull back and wipe her tears again. "You found me."

It was possible that there was some sort of double meaning lingering in the moment, waiting to see who picked it up. Sara refused; she hadn't the energy.

He nodded and put his hand on the small of her back, leading her down the elevator. "Let's go check on Nick," he paused and inhaled an unsteady breath, "Then I'd like to take you home." She looked at him. "Okay?"

"You don't have to do that Grissom, really," Sara answered him with a small smile.

He looked over at her as he pressed the down button for the elevator. "I insist."

Insisting with Sara Sidle rarely did much good without a dispute. Rarely. But there were times when it did a lot of good and with a warm, caring look from Gil Grissom instead of a stern, condescending look from her supervisor, Sara was likely to concede.

She smiled sincerely. "Thank you."

- - -

She wondered vaguely if any good things would come out of this very bad thing. Nick's kidnapping had brought her and Grissom closer together; there was no doubt about that. From that moment on, Grissom was a different man toward her. She would look up to find him staring at her with an intense gaze. He would look away, only to look back and lock eyes with her. He continued to pair himself with her and she noticed more smiles being directed her way. It was obvious that he was losing a battle with himself and Sara thought, maybe that's how he wanted it. Though she couldn't really remember encouraging it much. It was part of the defense mechanism she had established regarding him: keep anticipation to a bare minimum.

Sara let out a sigh and for the first time since she had woken up in this nightmare, she smiled. He had surprised her with his confidence. Grissom was a confident man and he wasn't as socially inept as one might think, but he always seemed unsure of what to say around her. He hadn't seemed unsure at all when he suggested they go out on a date. She had every reason to turn him down and he knew that, however, he had been so smooth and maddeningly self-assured. She had almost found it obnoxious.

Sara chuckled at turned her forehead to the wet ground. Much later, he would admit to her that it was all just very good acting. His insides had been in turmoil with nervousness…

- - -

"A warning sign
You came back to haunt me and I realized
You were an island and I passed you by
When you were an island to discover"

"Warning Sign" (Coldplay)

- - -

Sara threw herself onto the cool metal of the bench in the locker room and exhaled long and deep. It had been an excruciatingly hot day and she was extremely ready to bring this double shift to a close. She bent over and began untying her boots to change into the sandals in her locker when Grissom breezed in. She looked up and smiled at him as he passed by her to get to his locker that he had relocated to the back.

"Tired?" he asked and began turning his combination lock.

"I'm tired. I'm hot. I'm hungry. Pretty thirsty too."

He grinned and gave a rare chuckle that made her smile. "Is that all?"

"Did I mention that I'm hot?"

He paused and licked his lips. "I believe you did." He ducked into his locker and cleared his throat. "So what do you have planned this weekend?" his voice echoed off the metal in his locker.

She thought for a moment, but merely for show, because she responded with more than a little bit of humor, "Let's see… this… that… nothing. Absolutely nothing." She threw her boots in her locker and stood up to face him. "You?"

He closed his locker gently and turned to look at her. His face was straight, but relaxed. He licked his lips again and cocked his head to the side. "Actually, I have theater tickets for Saturday night. Turn of the Screw is playing at Las Vegas Little Theater. Pretty good seats, too."

"Sounds fun," she replied nonchalantly, trying not to think too hard on the fact that he said "tickets" instead of" ticket". "That should be a good show."

He nodded and moved closer to her with a look in his eyes that was affecting her more than she cared to admit. She was caught off guard and thought about moving back, but thought better of it. She stood still and he stopped walking when he was a little less than a foot in front of her.

"You're right. It's should be a good show," he said in a low tone that was undeniably flirtatious. It was surprising the way this man could turn something innocuous into flirtatious. "I'd like you to come with me."

She couldn't help it. Her eyebrows rose and her head turned to the side a bit. She cleared her throat. "What?"

He grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. After a moment, he asked, "Not a Henry James fan?"

She couldn't help it. She laughed at how bizarre he was acting. It was a small laugh that only she could identify as one, but he had to realize how abnormal he was being. He was asking her out and flirting and he wouldn't stop looking at her like that. She decided that it might be fun to play his game, even if it meant anticipating.

She pursed her lips and cocked her head to the side to study him, hoping she could find a hint of nervousness. When she didn't, she gave an inward scoff. "Actually, I'm very fond of Turn of the Screw. I'm sure I would enjoy the play."

"I'm sure you would too," he replied, his voice just above a whisper, "And I think I would enjoy it a lot better if you were enjoying it with me."

"Is that so?"

He nodded. A slow, infuriatingly unworried nod. She could say no, but that would be pretty ridiculous considering she wanted to say yes.

She gave him a flirty once over and finally replied, "Okay. I'll go with you."

His face twitched into a smile and he bent over to pick up her duffle bag. He handed it to her and began scooting past her. His chest brushed against her bare arm and when he was alarmingly close to her ear, he said in a low tone, "Good. It's a date then."

"Mhmm." A date? Had he really verbalized that? This was all very shocking for her and she was growing angry at herself for being so obviously shocked.

He backed away from her and looked over his shoulder at the door to the locker room, making sure no one was watching them. "I'll pick you up at five on Saturday. How's that?"

She turned around to face him. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, "Sounds great."

He gave a smirk and she immediately felt bad for thinking about how funny it would be if he tripped or bumped into the wall. As arousing as his self-assured confidence had been, part of her hated herself for making it so easy on him.

"Okay," he said, "I'll see you then."

"See you then."

He left the room and Sara couldn't help it. She shook her head unbelievingly and wondered if that had been at all difficult for him to do.

- - -

Sara wished she had a watch on her free hand. She hated not knowing what time it was, it just made her feel more out of control and lost. The rain was tapering off and her body was shivering. She wasn't sure if she was really cold or if she was going into convulsions. Her mind felt weak and light as if any moment she mind slip away into slumber.

Her mind screamed at her to close her eyes and sleep and the pain began to taper off with the rain. Even in her haziness, she knew that the pain was still there. She wondered idly if it was like walking around all day in wet shoes and socks. After a while, your brain got used to it and paid it less and less attention.

Very good things had come out of very bad things, this was true. But perhaps nothing good would come out of this. Perhaps all of the good things she was destined to have she had already had. Perhaps maybe she should be happy about that.

Maybe… maybe she was meant to die out here.

To be continued…

A/N:Thank you sooo much for your reviews. I really like hearing from you guys. It totally helps with the writing process that I know you guys are into it. But thanks for reading even if you don't review :) The next chapter should be up in a day or two!