A/N: Another chapter with the men! A few of you have reviewed and asked questions as "Guest"-we can't answer if we don't have your contact name! So thanks for the reviews and your interest! But provide a name if you want us to respond!

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I Keep on Loving You

Chapter 3

When Grissom's eyes returned to those faces sitting around him, he was startled by the expressions: Nick's mouth was open like a caught carp. The normally calm eyes of Jim Brass were wide, whites showing all around. And Greg—Greg's eyes were tight, a grimace lined his mouth. He was the first to break the silence.

"Then why did you stay away?"

Startled at the young man's question, Grissom remembered a time when Greg had been intimidated anytime he had been around Supervisor Gil Grissom. The years had changed the anxious boy to a skilled and confident adult—and a good friend to the woman in the intensive care unit.

In a flash, Grissom had realized these three men loved and cherished Sara Sidle; they had been with her day-to-day, month after month while he had traveled the world.

Grissom began speaking without specifically addressing any of the three. "I never meant to stay away—it—it just happened." A slight shrug of his shoulders and he continued, telling a truthful story of plans that had been disrupted by complications, some self-made and some out of their control, missed phone calls, cancelled flights, special occasions neglected. It had not been easy for him to admit fault—even though he knew the stalemate between he and Sara lay in his decision to work on various far-flung projects.

Seeing the confusion on their faces, he had decided to backtrack.

"When Sara returned, we made the decision that Vegas would be home-base. My mother was here; Sara planned to move her mother here. Hank wasn't a good traveler—we had friends—ties here." Looking at each man, he realized he had not explained anything.

He stabbed at the food on his plate. "I've never had good people skills—except with Sara-she understands me, or she did. The longer the distance between us the easier the distance was to manage—we made plans, bought tickets, met in some of the most beautiful cities in the world.

"Then fifteen months ago—no, actually longer than that—I got an offer and took a job with a bee research group working for USDA," he said. "In Weslaco, Texas—near Brownsville—it was going to be easy to get home—I thought. I got involved—some of the experiments needed constant observations or I'd end up flying somewhere for a crisis." He made an audible sigh before continuing, "You have known me for years—you know how—how I can get. I buried myself in work—got absent minded—forgot to eat—and I'm responsible for pretty much abandoning my wife—except when I needed…"

"You came back for your mother's funeral," Jim Brass growled. "What was that? One time in two years?"

Distress filled Grissom's face. Anxiously, he added, "No—no—I—I was here several times! I mean—all of this—Sara and I have stayed on good terms. Sara was so good with my mother—right up to the end." Sadness flickered across his face when he said, "There is no reason—I should have been here!" He had balled his hand into a fist.

Nick and Greg glanced at each other; both men thinking they would witness the rare event of Grissom losing his cool.

But Grissom's fist went to his chest. "I know I've hurt Sara—yet, she has always been supportive. When I didn't show up, she'd say it was okay—she'd be working." The fist relaxed and his hand wiped across his face. "Months ago—a few months after I'd gone to Texas, she wanted me to move back home—permanently—there was an open position at the university. The department chair assured me I'd get it if I applied—but I was stubborn—pigheaded. Told her I was doing something I'd wanted to do for years—and," he sighed, miserably again, "and the 'conversation' went downhill from there—told her she could divorce me if she wanted.

"All the promises I made—and broke—it sounds so—so hypocritical, so insincere—but I'm determined," his voice faded away.

Again, Greg and Nick passed glances at each other; pieces of the puzzle of Grissom's absence and Sara's unhappiness were falling into place.

A soft growl came from Brass before he said, "You've made a fine mess of things, Gil. Sara's not been herself for months—does a good job of covering up what she really feels. But, I'm telling you, if you don't fix things…" his thumb pointed to his chest.

Nick, his emotions on edge for hours, said, "Sara loves you, Griss—no one doubts that—but you've got to be here for her!"

In the past, Nick's attitude could get under Grissom's skin but at some point, he had realized Nick reminded him of himself. At the table, Grissom silently nodded his head, agreeing with Nick.

No one finished their meal as the conversation turned to Sara's condition. Nick and Greg left for work. Brass followed Grissom back to the waiting room as the two men seemed to have slipped back into a comfortable camaraderie as Jim related events around Sara's accident.

"Stealing manhole covers is big business but to cover one with a fake—plastic—takes the thief to an entirely different level." Brass talked on with information that Grissom heard but did not retain.

In the comfortable waiting area for intensive care families, Grissom suggested, "you don't need to stay, Jim."

"I'm staying—when you need sleep, I'll trade places with you." He gave Grissom a pat on his shoulder. "Start apologizing—she might hear you." Brass gave a quiet chuckle and headed to one of the large recliners on the dark side of the room.

Nearly twenty hours passed before Sara was moved to a private room in a step-down unit—no longer critical, the breathing apparatus removed but it seemed, to Grissom, that she had a lot of machines attached when moved to the room.

The room was different—more home-like, larger with a long sofa, a private bathroom, a television on the wall; visitors were allowed during certain hours. Family members could stay in the room, even sleep on the sofa and eat meals.

Except for a few hours, Grissom stayed in the room. He had his travel bag and picked up fresh clothing at the house—a house he had helped Sara choose and then had chosen to stay away. He had been despondent when he entered the quiet house; the clean, organized—and beautiful—rooms drove home what he had missed with the decisions he had made.

He found Sara's music device and decided to take it with him. At her bedside, he found two books and put them in the same bag as several personal items. As he wandered through the house, he saw what his life was missing—almost making himself physically sick—as he walked from room to room. Sara had beautifully incorporated some of his mother's favorite things around the house. He had picked up several photographs and, impulsively, added several of them to take to the hospital.

For the hours that followed, he sat beside Sara's bed, read her books out loud, ate food brought to him by others, watched others care for her, and slept sporadically.

He had been asleep when she had quietly awakened from the medically imposed sleep but her soft cry had brought him fully alert in seconds.

Softly, he said, "Sara, Sara."

A/N: Thank you for reading-our response to Grissom's absence (vague, we know!) but it works!