A/N: Because you read-and some of you reviewed-here's a new chapter! About Grissom! Thanks so much!
I Keep On Loving You
Chapter 2
Gil Grissom had arrived at the hospital less than twelve hours after getting a phone call from Greg Sanders. The conversation had been brief and terse: Sara had been seriously injured, undergoing emergency surgery, and, as her health care proxy, Grissom needed to know. Greg never said the words that Sara's husband needed to be with her. Grissom had asked a few questions and, a few hours later when he had walked out of the airport, Greg had been waiting curbside.
He had listened as Greg had related details—of the accident, of surgery, of Sara sleeping in a medically-induced coma in recovery, that Nick was taking care of Sara's dog—but the young man had asked no questions. Grissom did not know how much Greg knew of their marital situation—very little in all probability because Sara did not talk.
On arrival at the hospital, met by D.B., Nick, Jim, and Ecklie saying a fog of meaningless words, Grissom had been taken to Sara's bedside—other than Jim Brass, who was named as one of two emergency contacts on Sara's personnel record, no one else had been admitted. Jim had said Sara was resting but his pale, worried face indicated wordless fear.
The rules were strict and enforced; Grissom dressed in a disposable jumpsuit, washed his hands in disinfectant soap, covered his face with a mask and was escorted through a double air-lock into an atmosphere that was as sterile as humanly possible. Hushed voices and the whisper of life-giving machines was all the noise he heard.
A very tall male nurse provided details of Sara's condition in terms that were equally confusing and comprehensible—Grissom knew she was critical, knew her pelvic ring was fractured in two places, additional fractures of her ankle and arm—but when he followed the nurse and saw the bed, he actually gasped in shock. He felt the pressure of the nurse's hand on his elbow. A dozen tubes hooked to Sara ran from the bed to machines; a sheet covered the bed but not Sara.
"It's the external fixator—holding her body in one position," he explained. "She'll have that for ten days or so. She has screws and plates holding the pelvic structure in place." The nurse glanced at Grissom. "We see these fractures in motorcycle accidents—falls like your wife took are second most common."
Grissom had moved to the side of the bed; his hand reached to touch Sara's cheek. Quietly, he said, "She'll be cold." His voice shook and for the first time in his memory, he felt light-headed.
"Breathe," he heard the nurse say. A hand on his shoulder pushed. "Sit down—there's a stool right behind you."
Grissom sat.
The nurse continued talking, "She's warm—the bed is heated. She's wearing socks on her feet. The bed helps with circulation. She's sedated so she won't respond but you should talk to her. A lot of patients respond to a voice they know."
Grissom had not given a thought to how he would react; and now he was a blubbering idiot, seemingly incapable of making a rational sentence. Taking several deep breaths, he asked:
"How long can I stay?"
The nurse gave his a shoulder pat, saying "As long as you want—you can't eat or sleep in here but she'll be moved to another room in twelve to twenty-four hours. She really is doing well." He paused before adding, "The surgeon will be in soon and he'll go into more detail. Right now—we work to keep her comfortable."
Grissom nodded and a few seconds later, realized he was alone.
For an hour, he sat beside the bed, watching as nurses came in to provide care. They were professional and considerate, explaining what they were doing as they worked. After the third one suggested he talk to Sara, he did.
In a quiet voice, he had talked about his work; he could not find the words to talk about them, about their lives—not in the beginning—so, softly, he spoke of honey bee research while he kept one knuckle stroking her cheek.
At some point, two surgeons asked that he follow them to a small cubicle where he saw scans and x-rays of the actual damage to Sara's body. Obvious breaks to bones in her foot, ankle, and arm, extensive injury to her pelvis with two dark fracture lines needed little explanation. The scans showed soft tissue damage but, amazingly, she had little trauma above her waist and only a small scrape at her hairline marred her face.
"This is why she'll need to wear the external device for a while," Dr. Pham, the younger of the two, said as he pointed to the pelvis scans. "It's a tough recovery. She'll need four to six weeks of essential bed rest—and weeks, if not months of rehab." He paused for a few seconds and when Grissom did not ask questions, he added, "We'll get her moved to a private room that's a bit more visitor friendly but we don't want her awake for at least another thirty-six hours."
After that, Grissom roused from a state of uncertainty to one with a purpose.
He had left Sara's bedside for a while to talk to her co-workers—who quickly agreed that one of them would always be at the hospital. They also agreed with his decision not to tell Sara's mother—yet—of Sara's accident. Again, as with Greg, none of the men asked Grissom about the current state of his marriage.
At their insistence, he had agreed to eat a meal in the hospital cafeteria and, while eating, he mentioned his last time in Vegas had been to bury his mother.
Nick, sighing loudly, eyes glinting with unspoken emotions, bluntly asked, "Why do you stay away, Grissom?"
The three men with him—Nick, Greg, and Jim—had known Grissom for years and knew his quirky, often unexplainable behavior was frequently baffling from their point of view. After Nick's question, a stiff stillness of silence surrounded the table as the three men held a collective breath.
A frown had crossed Grissom's face as he swallowed his food. His fingers went across his mouth. His eyes fixated on something across the room. Slowly, his head shook from side to side.
"I never meant to stay away," he said so softly that Greg, seated across the table, would not have heard the words if he had not been watching Grissom's face.
Again, the three men remained silent. An expectation of more kept them quiet.
A/N: Did you think anyone would get much out of Grissom? More to come! Reviews, comments are always appreciated!