A/N:Thanks for reading and sending all the wonderful encouraging comments and reviews!

I Keep On Loving You

Chapter 5

By the time the morning sunlight was sweeping shadows from the corners of the hospital room, the arrival of a medical team had managed to keep Sara from going back to sleep. Two more physicians had joined the orthopedic surgeons—an internist and an urologist—who gently prodded and asked questions. All four were informative, giving details of her injuries; the older man in the group, obviously the team's chief, was reserved when Sara asked how long it would take to recover.

"You will recover, Sara. I want you to keep the external support for several more days—it's uncomfortable but, I believe, it will speed your recovery in the long run. We're not even going to talk about discharge—you will be here until you move into rehab and I'll suggest that may be ten days away—I've seen patients rush up rehab only to have problems in six months." He patted her shoulder, biting his bottom lip, obviously thinking as he passed his eyes from her arm to her covered feet.

A few seconds later, he continued, "On this unit—and rehab—we see our share of pelvic fractures." He held up both hands and made a circle with his fingers touching. "The pelvis is like a pretzel—when one part breaks, another part breaks. You have a fracture where my middle finger would be the top of your pelvic ring." He wiggled one finger. "Then you have another break down here, where my thumb is."

Sara nodded her understanding.

The physician continued, "The good news is—it's called a vertical sheer fracture—your bones did not shatter or crush, so if we hold the bones together—that's what the plates and screws will do—your recovery will go much faster. The bad news is—the first few weeks are hard—on you. You'll be pretty much bed bound."

Sara attempted a smile before saying, "So I'm here for a while."

Without giving an answer, the physician turned to a nurse standing with the group. "Didn't I see Benita today?"

The nurse answered "Yes."

"Make sure our patient here has Benita as her nurse."

And following a few more words from the physicians, they were gone.

Grissom stepped back to Sara's bedside and reached for the tissue box. Silently, he dabbed the tears leaking from her eyes.

"How did this happen?" She asked as she tried to raise her hand only to realize, again, that her arm was still strapped to an arm board. Tears wept from her eyes. "I don't remember anything."

Pulling his chair to the bed, he sat down and reiterated, softly telling her how she had fallen into a manhole, the stolen cover replaced by a thin plastic, yet realistic appearing one. In the early darkness of dawn, no one had noticed it wasn't the real thing until Sara had stepped on it and disappeared.

She shook her head again, saying, "I don't remember any of it."

Grissom brushed her hair with his fingers. He said, "It's probably best you don't remember it, Honey. You had very serious injuries." His smile was gentle. "All the guys stayed with you—Nick was in that manhole telling the EMTs what to do. Greg called me. And you and D.B. are a perfect blood match—when you needed a transfusion, you got his blood. I think he was adamant that he would be your donor."

At his comment about her supervisor, Sara smiled. "I may grow a few inches taller."

They both laughed at her joke.

"You're going to be fine, Sara—fine." His hand caressed her face. "It may take a while, but we'll take a canoe trip—another honeymoon."

"Could we? I'd love to do that—we were so happy, Gil." She smiled again, fleetingly before a frown passed across her face.

Grissom finished what she had left unsaid, saying, "We were happy—we can be happy again." He smiled a flirty grin, "Let's break the spell and end the curse…"

Sara laughed, a light-hearted giggle, followed by a grimace. "It hurts to laugh—and you've been listening to my music!"

He nodded, saying, "Heart-shaped wreckage—I'd say we've gone through hell," he smiled. "We can fix this, Sara."

"What about your work?"

"It's here for now."

Any more conversation was interrupted when a loud knock was heard seconds before the door opened and a giant of a woman walked in. She was dressed in starched white from neck to toe—unusual in a day when nurses often appeared in Disney printed smocks—with skin the color of dulce de leche that Sara remembered from a trip to Argentina and large soft brown eyes that reminded one of a pet dairy cow. Age was difficult to determine but cheekbones and black hair suggested an indigenous heritage somewhere in the Americas.

"Good morning!" She said as she approached the bed. "I'm Benita—I'll be your nurse for the next three or four days. Now—do I call you Sara or Mrs. Grissom or 'patient'," she gave a nod of acknowledgement to Grissom, "and to you—is it Dr. Grissom?"

"Sara."

"Gil," he said, rising from his chair.

The two detected an accent, slight enough to know Benita had not grown up in the United States, but almost unnoticeable in her professional manner.

The nurse held a tablet in one hand; Sara noticed how small the device appeared in a palm the size of book.

"Okay, Sara, you and I will be together and doing very personal things," Benita's smile showed strong, white teeth. "I've been handling patients like you for over fifteen years." Another smile, "Mostly men—crazy boys riding motorcycles or doing some kind of stunt—so I am pleased to work with a woman!" She glanced at Grissom as a soft, low laugh bubbled to her lips. "And we'll make sure we do it right."

All Sara and Grissom could do is nod in agreement.

"First things—you know about your injuries, right? You are going to be bed-bound for a while, right? Then you'll go to rehab, right?"

Sara nodded.

"Okay—today, I'll give you a bed bath—as much as I can with all this apparatus hooked to you—you will feel much better. We'll work on your hair—your skin. I'm going to get some food in here—liquids today—see if you can eat enough so one of these IVs can be removed." She glanced at Grissom, saying, "While we are working on this, why don't you—you do that for yourself? I'll take care of Sara for the next hour or so." She laughed again. "You look like you could use a long shower, a change of clothes and a good meal."

The nurse's directive to Grissom caused Sara to laugh for the second time that morning.

Grissom laughed. His eyes crinkled as he tilted his head to one side; his mind had been running at fast forward since Benita had entered the room. "Excellent idea," he said. He pointed an index finger in the general direction of 'south'. "Zapotec?"

Benita threw her dark-haired head back and laughed. "Smart! Few people get it because of my height—usually it's 'Amazon'—but, yes, I'm Zapotec. Came up when I was sixteen—already taller than any of the boys in my village." She chuckled again, saying, "Now, get out of here for a while—we—Sara and I have some personal things to take care of—you'll learn quickly—I'll teach you!" Waving her hand, she ordered him out.

With this introduction of nurse and patient, Sara soon learned the intimate procedures of being a bed-bound patient. Benita knew how to handle Sara with an effortless ease—as if she had no weight at all. The nurse rolled clean sheets onto the bed, never disturbing the curved frame over Sara's body. After bathing her with large, soft pads, Benita managed to snap and pin a clean hospital gown over most of Sara's upper body. A brush was found in the bag Grissom had brought in and Benita combed Sara's hair into a high ponytail. Then she applied a creamy lotion over every inch of Sara's exposed skin—in places Sara was certain no lotion had ever been applied, Benita's large hands patted and smoothed with soft, certain hands.

Sara managed to stay awake until Grissom returned, wearing a pale blue shirt and, she noticed, a faint fragrance of his favorite soap which she kept in the bathroom cabinet.

"You've been home," she whispered when he bent over and kissed her.

"I have." He kissed her again and found a place to rest his hand on her pillow. "And you look—look refreshed—I like your pony tail." Gently, he twisted her hair around his fingers. "The first time we met you had a pony tail."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter of 'moving forward'-more to come!