A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing!

I Keep on Loving You

Chapter 4

Sara drifted back to sleep only to wake in less than an hour. The musical lyrics of a favorite song had faded and, opening her eyes, she was confused again until she heard his voice. Or was she dreaming?

"Gil?" She heard her voice, thick and hoarse as she said his name.

"I'm here, Sara." His cool fingers touch her face.

She struggled to lift eyelids heavy with remnants of a long imposed sleep. "Gil? I'm in a hospital?" She asked.

Quickly, he related a short version of her accident while placing ice chips in her mouth.

"How long have I been here?"

He told her.

"How long have you been here?"

"I came as quickly as I could. Greg called me."

A thought caused her to smile. "You were with me when I woke before."

"Yes, I was." Grissom said. "You've been sleeping."

Another wisp of a smile lifted the edges of her mouth. "It seems a long time ago. You were with me then—when I woke up."

"Not that long—just an hour or so."

"I meant after Natalie—when I was in the desert."

Caught off guard, his throat tightened; it took several seconds for Grissom to speak. "Yes, that was a long time ago."

Throughout the night, Sara slept, woke and asked a few questions—often the same ones—before she drifted back to sleep. Grissom sat by her bed, keeping his hand on her arm as he listened to her music using her player, surprised at her choice of songs, or read one of the books from her bedside at home.

Nursing staff, appearing as mystical creatures, quietly entered the darkened room, checked Sara, and left just as quietly, each time telling Grissom that Sara continued to improve. Twice, Sara was awake and answered questions; her wide, dark eyes following the nurse's movements around her bed.

Often, she was confused for a few minutes until reminded that she was in the hospital; the nurse assured him this was normal for waking from an induced sleep.

The same nurse had returned a few minutes later with a cup of apple juice, explaining he could give Sara sips of juice when she was awake.

Grissom had opened the window blinds during the night and realized the room faced east, away from the garish lights of the Strip. Before dawn, a purple haze stretched across the sky and shadowed the range of mountains to the east of the Las Vegas valley. He knew the area—red and white swirls of sandstone, rocks with sloping edges as sharp as knives, dry land and dry brush as Lake Mead shrank to record levels.

He sighed as he returned to the chair next to Sara's bed. Propping his elbows on the bed, he swiped his eyes and ran fingers through his hair.

"You look tired," Sara said.

Grissom, not realizing she was awake, let his eyes meet hers. "I didn't realize you were awake," he said. "You mean I look old."

Carefully, he lifted a spoon filled with juice and placed it between her lips.

She swallowed and licked her lips. "No, I don't mean that at all." She smiled. "Thanks for opening the blinds—maybe now I'll know when it's day and night."

Dropping his right hand gently to her forehead, he brushed his thumb along her brows. "I'm fine, dear."

"I didn't think you would come back after—after your mother died."

As he continued to stroke her forehead, he said, "I've been such a fool, Sara." He sighed. "Will you ever forgive me?"

She let her eyes close; her eyelashes made dark crescents on pale cheeks. He could see bright crystals of tears forming under her lids. A lock of hair curved across her face and he pushed it back. With his index finger, he carefully wiped Sara's eyes. For a while, both remained silent; he couldn't tell if she was awake or had drifted back to sleep.

Then, as Sara's eyes remained closed, she whispered: "I'm sorry, Gil—for everything."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Sara," he replied as he rested his hand on her head.

"I told you to go fuck yourself. I shouldn't have said that."

Grissom made a soft chuckle before saying, "Forget it, dear. I deserved it." He dropped his left hand to rest across her chest. "I'm the one who needs to apologize." He could feel her heart beating under his palm. "I have been very selfish while you have always been concerned for others—for me, for my mother, for your mother."

Opening her eyes, the dark chocolate brown, soft and warm in the first light of dawn, he realized how much he loved this woman. "I love you, Sara."

The look in her eyes always told him she saw the man inside him and not the man who was self-centered and pigheaded-stubborn. He knew she was protective, ferociously loyal to the point of sacrificing her own happiness—and, without doubt, knew she was the love of his life.

He lifted his butt off the chair and leaned over her bed so his lips were above hers. Softly, he whispered, "I've been listening to your music—and I don't want to love anyone but you."

For a few seconds, he hovered over her face as their eyes met in a warm exchange of understanding and acceptance. He kissed her—slowly, gently, savoring the warmth of her lips against the chill of her tongue, faintly tasting the apple juice he had given her.

A/N: Now-how much more? Should we leave our favorite couple in this tender moment? Yes? No? Send us a word of encouragement...and more to come-soon!