Hurt/Comfort/Romance. Rated M. GSR–because, really, is there anything else? GSR is the heart of CSI.

AWKWARD

CHAPTER THREE

Once inside, Sara was whisked off to pre-op. The speed might have been alarming, if she had stopped to think about it. A nurse led her to a locker room, gave her a gown, and told her to strip and put all her things in a locker. She was given a key on a stretchy band to wear on her wrist. They'd had some valuables go missing lately, the nurse told Sara.

"It's a shame, to take advantage of someone at such a vulnerable time," she added. Sara agreed with a nod. The nurse bustled off and Sara changed and then waited. The gown was made for a short fat woman and as a tall slender one it was barely decent. So she was grateful to be given a thin robe and socks as well before walking down the public hallway.

Then it was a quick interview with her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature taken and her medical history reviewed. An ID badge was attached to her other wrist. Next, Sara was taken to the operating room, which was large and very dark and dank and kind of creepy. She took off the robe and gown and crawled naked under a thin white sheet, under the spotlights. The surgeon and anesthetist introduced themselves and explained briefly what was to happen.

Already feeling exposed with this small crowd of masked strangers about to see her naked body, the feeling of vulnerability intensified when Sara's arms were straightened out and placed as if she were to be crucified. There was the cold wipe and pinch of a needle in the hollow of her elbow. Something warm and relaxing flowed into her blood. A mask was placed over her mouth and nose. The surgeon told her to count backwards from 100. Sara didn't even make it to 90 before everything went dark.

A minute passed, it seemed, and then she was lying on a gurney in a green-walled hallway, with someone saying her name. An excruciating pain accompanied her return to consciousness. She wished she could be knocked out again. Groggy, Sara opened her eyes and was told the surgery went well, and they were going to take her up to a room to recover for a few hours. Sara was just able to nod before she dozed off again. The feeling of moving–head first and flat on her back-roused her again. Then she was shifting carefully into a bed by the window. Sara looked out and reflected how rare it was for her to see daylight.

There was a rustle of clothing and movement to her right. Sara rolled her head over, expecting to see yet another nurse, and so was touched and pleased to see Grissom sitting there instead.

"Hi." Sara beamed at him.

"Hey." Grissom gave her a shy smile in return.

"I wasn't expecting to see you yet. Or at my bedside."

"I wanted to be here when you woke up."

"That's sweet." Sara rolled over to face him, and cried out, "Oh!"

"What? What's wrong?" Grissom said worriedly.

"I, my guts shifted. Very weird feeling. I guess there's a void in there now." Sara held her stomach carefully.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ugh. Like a fish that's just been gutted. Hurts."

Grissom fumbled around for the call button and pressed it without another word.

"Can she have something for the pain?" he asked plaintively, when the nurse appeared.

"I'll check, but I think so." She hurried out again.

"Thanks." Sara's voice was soft, as were her eyes.

"Anytime." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but the nurse returned, stuck a needle in her IV, and pushed the plunger. She patted Sara's hand, said something reassuring, and left.

Within minutes a feeling of blessed relief and a mild euphoria filled her body.

"Mmm," Sara moaned. "Much better." She looked into Grissom's eyes and gave him a grateful dopey smile. That didn't seem enough, so she reached for his hand. Grissom took hers and squeezed. She peered and blinked at him sleepily. She's so adorable.

"Go ahead and rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Sara fell asleep with Grissom still holding her hand.

When she woke up next, the sun had shifted. A dull pain throbbed through her body and the sharp pain in her abdomen had returned. She rolled her head around, feeling aggravated. Her breath caught when she looked to her right again. There was Grissom, his head down on her bed, eyes closed, lips parted, his breathing regular, and both hands curled on either side of his handsome head. Sara took advantage of the rare opportunity–she'd never seen him asleep, she realized–to study his features. The straight well-formed nose. Perfect lips, slightly rounded. Dark eyelashes framing those large expressive eyes, closed for once. Strong jaw, and that cleft, that distinctive cleft, in the exact center of his chin. Sara raised her hand, wanting to touch, to explore his face, to feel just how soft his skin really was, but hesitated. Poor guy. He must be tired. It's the middle of the night for us.

There was a clatter of metal from the hallway. Lunch time. Grissom shifted, groaned a little, and raised his head. He blinked at her a moment before remembering where he was.

"Hey, guess I dozed off too. How are you?"

"You must be tired. Did you sleep at all after last shift?"

"Uh." He looked at his watch. "Just now. About three hours." Grissom rubbed his neck.

"Stiff neck?"

"No."

"Turn around."

"Sara. You're the one who just had surgery. I'm fine."

Sara shot him a look. She fumbled for the control and brought the bed up to a sitting position. Again she had to grip her belly. This time it felt like her innards were about to spill out into her lap.

Sara twirled her finger at her boss. "Humor me."

Grissom sighed and turned his chair away from the stubborn woman in the hospital bed. The next moment his protests fled, as strong fingers were massaging his aching neck, working up and down, then scratching his scalp lightly. A pleasant shiver ran up to his hairline and back. Grissom let out a low moan of pleasure. Sara rubbed his temples and then ran her fingers through his curly graying hair.

"Soft," she murmured. "Always wondered." Then she was working down his cervical spine again, and Grissom forgot how to talk, for the sheer pleasure of it. She was just starting to work on the kinks in his shoulders when a tall man in scrubs strode into the room. Sara pushed away and folded her hands in her lap. Grissom opened his eyes to protest when he too spotted the doctor. He straightened up as well and looked expectant.

"Miss Sidle?" He picked up the chart from the foot of the bed and glanced at it. "Looks good. You can go home whenever you like. Any questions?"

"How did the surgery go?" Grissom asked.

"Fine, fine. No complications. Oh, we removed your appendix too."

"My appendix?"

"While we were in there, thought we'd nab that little sucker too." He seemed to think this a good joke. "You'll have a scar, of course, but I made the incision along your bikini line."

"How long will she need to be off work?"

"Six weeks."

"Six? You told me two, Sara."

"Oh. Did I?" she tried to look innocent.

"Two?" the doctor looked amused. "Not a chance. This is pretty major surgery, Miss Sidle. Believe me, you won't be ready to go anywhere for six weeks."

"Six weeks." Sara pouted, sounding as if it was a jail sentence. "I'll lose my mind."

"No you won't. Thank you, doctor," Grissom said, and the man left. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

Sara threw the sheets aside and bent her knees to the side, grimacing and still clutching her belly. Grissom had a good look at those famous Sidle legs, then forced himself to concentrate on guiding her hands to the side of the bed. Sara pushed off and slid her slipper-clad feet to the ground, trying to stand in a single motion. A wave of dizziness had her pitching forward into Grissom's grasp.

"Whoa, whoa. No rush. Sit there a second. Let your head clear, woman." Grissom pushed her back to a seat. He kept her there with a hand to her shoulder. "Have a drink of water."

Sara drank down half the glass.

"Clothes. Where are my clothes?" He handed her the plastic bag from her locker. "Oh." Sara pulled them out across the blanket. "Guess I'll go in the bathroom to change."

"That's okay. I'll give you a minute." Grissom stood, stepped away, and whisked the curtain closed. Sara smiled at his waiting feet and slowly got dressed. It was kind of nice to have him take care of her.

TBC