A/N: Well. I have to say happy 5th Birthday to my little ficlet. Yep, 5 loooooooong years I've been writing this (give or take a few days). I'm proud and I'm thankful. For having the patience and desire to continue and the readers to read. I especially thank those who have been with me since the start and have stuck by me after all this time. I will finish this one day and that thought actually makes me a little sad.

And what better way to celebrate than a huge chapter of fluff! Yes, you heard me right, FLUFF! Evil hat has been fired and fluffy hat has taken over. I think Grissom may be on the mend... Shall we find out?

Gracious thanks to Calim for the beta. Always a rock when I need one. And thank you so very much for the reviews, please keep them coming :)

So after 5 years, 119 chapters, 441,000 words, 900 pages, 2.3 million letters (LOL) and over 2000 reviews, let's get on with the show!

ENJOY!

Chapter 119

Ten days later…

Grissom's progress had been slow. His battle with infection, fierce. Most of the time he slept, usually until a point where the pain would break through his slumber and he would wake in a delusional panic. Thankfully, the medicine and morphine usually did the trick of calming him but it was difficult for Sara to keep seeing him in so much pain all the time.

She spent as much time with him as was allowed, usually with her mother. Changing his dressing and deciding on the best times to let the wound air, keeping him cool and attempting to get him to drink at any point he wasn't in distress while he was awake. She hadn't had a descent conversation with him since he asked about his locket. She'd tried, but he just didn't seem to be cohesive enough to get into any long talks. Sara knew she had to be patient because he was so sick and, no matter how hard it was for her, she would be. She had to be.

The sheriff had been by, several times, not only to see how his friend was doing but to find out if there was any possibility he could get a statement from Grissom in regard to the shooting and McKeen's death. So far, due to Grissom's state, he'd been unable to even get access to the room. Laura would simply not allow it due to the rancher's infection and risk of others bringing in bacteria.

Now it was Saturday morning, 7am, 11th November 1859. Sara yawned as she stared at the ceiling, thinking. It was four months since Grissom had ridden into her life. Just four months… So much had happened within that short space of time it felt like so much longer.

Smiling, Sara reminisced about the first day they met. The second her eyes fell upon him…she knew, she knew she would love him. And the look in his eyes told her, he felt something too. That was a special moment that would never be forgotten.

Sara never imagined she would fall in love with a man like Grissom. Her father had always attempted to groom her for high society, after all, they were Sidle's. Rich friends, dinner parties and morals and ethics were always number one. They'd always had the best and she would've been expected to marry into wealth. It's just who they were.

And, although she had yet to tell him so, she did give her father credit even if she'd only just realized how much he'd actually put up with. Her indiscretion for most fathers would have doomed that family relationship, yet, Thomas Sidle, proud, respected, hardworking, feared, ethical man, had forgiven her for breaking such a sacred vow and for the most part, he'd forgiven Grissom, too. That was something she should be very grateful for.

There was a lot she needed to be grateful for.

On a thoughtful sigh, Sara got out of bed and dressed, heading straight for Grissom's room as she did every morning if she wasn't with him during the night. Her mother didn't often let her sit with him during the dark hours because they seemed to be his worse times. Laura didn't like her seeing all that pain, all of the time. Last night, it was Nicolas and her father's turn to stay with him, doing several hours each.

When she entered the room, Grissom was sleeping and her father was standing by the window, gazing out across the snow covered grove, shoving tobacco into his pipe. She smiled, approaching him and he turned upon hearing her entrance.

"Good morning," he offered. "He's had a good night," he continued nodding to Grissom. "No complaints at all…"

Sara's smile grew as she gave her fiancé a quick glance but she continued on to her father, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.

The captain blinked in surprise as she threaded her arm through his, cuddling up to him. "What was that for?" he laughed.

"For you," she replied. "Thank you for being my father and…for everything you've done. Especially for Gil. I know I haven't exactly made it easy for you these past months with our relationship and what's happened and…"

"Hey…" he stopped her with a quick finger over her lips. "No more past, remember? I haven't exactly made things easy for you either and I'm your father. Ultimately, I will always be there for you. No matter what."

She blushed, but then quickly looked to the bed as a moan broke up their conversation. Breaking away from her father, she approached her fiancé as his eyes opened. Grissom coughed a little then licked his lips on a sleepy hum. Slowly, his head turned and Sara gave him a smile as their eyes met.

"Good morning, sleepy," she whispered although not really expecting much of a response.

"Morning…" he mumbled and Sara took a step back, glancing to her father as he stepped up beside her.

She reached out to take Grissom's hand. "You can hear me?" she asked.

Grissom nodded and, with a tinge of excitement rushing through her veins, Sara reached out to his forehead to check his temperature. Her brow rose.

"He's cooled down a lot," she said with a hint of giddiness. Taking a breath, she passed a hand over his cheek. She must shave him, he was beginning to look like a vagrant.

"Water?" Grissom asked.

Quickly, Sara nodded and almost skipped around the bed to where the jug of water sat.

"I'm going to wake your mother," the captain said before leaving the room, giving his daughter a cheerful wink.

Sara didn't really hear him, she was too in awe at the prospect that Grissom might actually be back in the real world. Pouring a glass of water. She looked him over.

"Do you think you can sit up?" she asked.

Grissom's right hand smoothed over his bare chest and he gave a nod. "I can try," he responded.

Placing the glass down, Sara leaned forward, gently wrapping her arms around her man in order to help him sit up against the pillows. He winced a touch, but didn't make much fuss as he was propped up.

"Comfortable?" Sara's brow pinched, her eyes scanning his for signs of discomfort.

Closing his eyes for a second, he gave a single nod, swallowing the lump in his dry throat. "About as much as I can be, I guess."

Retaking the glass, Sara held it to his lips and he drank quickly sighing with satisfaction once the glass was empty. She ran a finger over his chin, catching a stray drop of water.

"Want some more?"

"I could use a whiskey," he answered and Sara snorted, placing the glass down.

"I'm not so sure that would be such a great idea right now considering the medication you've been taking," she laughed. "I don't think mother would be very happy if I overdosed you."

His right brow rose as he looked into her eyes. Giving him a broad smile now, her hand found his cheek again and she held it there.

"How are you feeling?"

Clearing his throat, his eyes closed again as he enjoyed the feeling of her thumb running over his skin. "Like I need to get up. My back hurts and my butt's numb."

"Well…" She pulled her hand back, shimmying around on the bed, "…you have been in bed for nearly two weeks so you're going to be a little stiff."

Grissom's eyes popped open and he looked surprised. "Two weeks?" he questioned.

She nodded. "Yeah." Taking his hand again she looked to his injury. "You've been quite a mess. Your wound became badly infected and your fever was…" she struggled to say the word, "…deadly…"

Grissom swallowed again, his grip tightening on her hand. "I don't…remember much to be honest," he admitted.

"Well…" Sara pouted, "…what do you remember?"

"Umm…" He winced again as he shifted. "The party, fighting with the colonel and then…pain…" His eyes suddenly widened, "…What happened to McKeen? Is he still out there?"

Sara's mouth opened but she paused, a little stunned. "You don't remember?"

He shook his head. "No. Did he hurt you?" he whispered. "I dreamt he hurt you…" His brow pinched. "I think…"

"Ummm…" Sara ran a free hand through his hair, "…no. He's…" Her eyes found his again, "…dead."

The rancher blinked hard wondering if he'd heard her right but, before he could get any details, Laura appeared.

"Well…well…well…" she said happily, seeing Grissom up and in obvious conversation. "Have we returned to the land of the living, young man?"

Glancing over, he gave her a tiny smile. "I hope so," he replied.

"Glad to hear it," Laura returned. "You just keep that fever back at a manageable level…"

He snorted. "I'll do my best."

Biting her lip, Sara looked to her mother. "He's asking what happened to the colonel. He can't remember much after the fight with him began…"

"Oh…" Laura returned her attention to Grissom. "I stabbed him in the back," she said quickly and honestly.

Grissom's eyes worked in circles, like he didn't quite believe what he'd just heard.

"No one threatens my children, Gil," she continued. "Especially not in my own house. It was him, or the two of you. Because he wouldn't have stopped…"

He gave a nod and didn't say another word on the subject. It simply wasn't the time for it.

"Anyway," Laura began, rounding the bed, "let's take a look at this wound shall we?"

Watching as Laura pulled the sheet from his body, Grissom shivered as the air hit his skin and he tried to lean forward to get a better look at what had almost taken his life.

"Hmmm…" she mewed, running fingers around the reddened area of his injury. "Not so much puss today," she said, looking up to him. "In fact, there isn't much at all."

Sara looked at the wound. "That's good right?"

Laura gave a nod. "Yes, very. It means the infection is clearing and healing is finally happening."

Suddenly, Grissom's stomach rumbled, so loud, both ladies in the room sniggered.

"Hungry are we?" Laura laughed, replacing the sheet over the rancher.

Grissom managed a grin. "I guess…"

"It's been a long time since you've eaten anything, Gil." Laura rejoined her daughter, taking the almost empty jug of water in her hands. "You should really try if you think you can keep it down. Do you think you can try?"

Sara really hoped he was willing to try. He would be so weak and needed the strength to help his recovery.

"I'll try," he replied. "And then can I get out of bed?"

"Oh, no," Laura answered that question with haste. "Not yet. I's way too soon. And you shouldn't even be trying without the doctor's consent."

Grissom sighed, turning his head away making Sara concerned.

"Gil, you're not strong enough," Laura continued noting his frustration. "And your wound is by no means healed at all yet. If you get up you will find yourself in agony and send yourself into another relapse or injure yourself further. Do you really want that?"

"No…" he grumbled.

"I know it's hard but you need to be patient and stay in bed." His head turned back to face her and she gave him a smile. "Trust me, the second we now you're well enough to get up, we will get you up. I'll insist on it."

He gave a nod but didn't look all that impressed about it.

"I'll get some fresh water and bring you something to eat," Laura said.

Sara watched her mother leave, before glancing back to her fiancé. "She's right, you know? You've been shot. You need your wound to heal more and you must get some energy back into your system before you'll be able to stand and even then it's going to be hard."

"I know…" he admitted. "I just…hate feeling helpless…"

Leaning into him, she kissed him softly on the lips and it startled him. She snorted as she pulled back seeing the look on his face. "Don't be so surprised," she whispered. "And helplessness isn't always a bad thing. It means people like me will always be by your side."

Now he smiled and she laughed, her lips returning to his for another tender kiss.

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

"Come on…" Sara gestured, holding out the spoon full of chicken broth, "…open…"

Grissom's brow pinched as he glared at the spoon. "I'm sure I can feed myself, Sara," he replied. "I got shot in the stomach, not in my hands."

Placing the spoon back into the bowl, Sara gave him a sad pout. "Humor me, all right? Let me take care of you. You took care of me…"

He breathed a gentle sigh, rolling his eyes. "Fine…"

She smiled, taking another spoonful of liquid nutrition and holding it out to him. "Careful," she advised. "It may be a little hot."

The rancher opened his mouth and took the offering, enjoying the flavor on his tongue and swallowing quickly.

"Okay?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied opening his mouth again causing her to snicker.

Grissom managed about three quarters of the bowl before he could take no more. He was full and Sara was happy he'd managed as much as he had. It was always difficult getting back into eating once you hadn't done it for a long period of time. She should know that better than anyone.

"You've done really well," she commended, placing the bowl down on the table beside her.

"Hmmm…" he mumbled, closing his eyes.

Reaching forward, she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "Feeling tired again?"

"No," he replied on a yawn. "Not really. Just full." A smile found his lips. "That whiskey would be good about now."

Sara smirked. "Maybe when you're a little better. Would you like me to read to you?"

His eyes popped open and looked back at her. "How about you tell me what's happened over the past two weeks?"

"Oh…" Sara wasn't quite expecting that request. "Erm…well…" She blew a heavy breath. "You've been very sick. David got the bullet out after you were shot and…we were all very fearful for you…"

He listened, a little anxious as to what Sara may reveal.

"Your fever was very high and then the infection started." Now Sara closed her eyes. "There were times when…" She shook her head, "…you could have given up…" She jumped when his hand slipped into hers and her eyes popped open. A single tear fell from her eye and she quickly swiped it away. "I was so scared I was going to lose you," she sobbed.

Grissom gently shook his head. "Never…"

Now Sara managed a small smile. "You may want to apologize to father."

"Why?" Grissom questioned with a frown.

"Well, you…did thump him a few times when you awoke in pain," she said, trying to hold in a laugh. It wasn't funny at the time, but now she thought about it.

The rancher's eyes widened. "I did?"

"Ugh huh," she replied on a nod. She tightened her grip on his hand. "However, I'm sure he didn't take it personally but when you're well, it may be worth mentioning. He's been very good with you since you got hurt."

Now Grissom's eyes worked in circles as he thought. "Yeah….especially when it comes to peeing if I recall…."

Sara did laugh now and she battered him lightly on the arm with her free hand. "Well, you didn't want mother helping, so…"

"Okay…okay…" He quickly stopped her, not really wanting to take the conversation any further. It was embarrassing enough.

"So, not much has really happened apart from us taking care of you," Sara continued. "Oh, and Gregory is looking after Dickens for the time being…"

Grissom smiled. "The fur ball…"

"Indeed," Sara retorted. "I totally forgot about him but, thankfully, my cousin didn't. I haven't been near him for fear of bringing germs near you and I won't until you're better but I know the kitten is in good hands. Hopefully, he'll be strong enough to make it through these cold months…"

Turning his head, Grissom looked to the window, noting frost on the outside of the glass. "It must be really cold out there…"

Sara nodded. "Yeah. Snowing, too."

"Yeah?" he turned back to her, yawning again.

"Yeah," she replied. "You've already been introduced to the snow, remember?" He thought, frowning. "You don't remember, do you?"

"No."

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly, shaking her head. "What does matter is the future from here and, hopefully, in a few weeks, we can enjoying the winter's weather together. I'm looking forward to getting you cornered in a snowball fight."

His right brow inclined. "Beating up an injured man, Miss Sidle?"

Her lips blossomed into a huge smile as she leaned into him. "You know you'll love it," she snickered, giving him a tender kiss.

Grissom was almost mewing as she pulled back. "I should get sick more often. I could get used to this."

Holding up a finger, Sara shook her head. "Not a chance," she shot back. "I don't want you ever being sick like this again. Do you understand?"

Giving a bashful grin, he nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Reaching a hand to his chin, he scratched at his beard. "Hmmm…bushy…"

"Yes, you are," Sara agreed. "You need a shave."

"Well…" he shuffled up a little, feeling a pinch in his wound, "…maybe you can help me with that at some point?"

Slowly, Sara's tongue drew across her bottom lip. "I think I can manage that. Do you think you're up to it?"

He gave a nod.

"How are we doing in here?"

Both Grissom and Sara looked towards the door to see Laura's arrival. "Did you manage to eat the food?" Laura asked, approaching the bed.

Sara held up the bowl for her mother to see. "He almost finished it all," she responded with a smile.

"Good." Laura gave her own smile. "Very good. And how are you feeling now?"

Grissom ruffled his nose. "Furry," he answered.

Laura's brow pinched. "What?"

"He needs a shave, Mother," Sara cut in watching as Grissom scratched his chin.

"Ahhhh…" Laura realized. "I think I'd agree with you there." She grinned, looking the rancher over.

Sara pushed herself to her feet. "I can do it," she said enthusiastically. "I've done it before…"

"Have you now?" Laura smirked, folding both arms over her chest.

Sara's mouth slammed shut realizing her revelation and she ran a nervous hand over the back of her neck. Grissom knew Laura was kidding though. He could tell by the look in her eye.

"You know…I…." Sara mumbled, not entirely sure where to go next.

Laura snorted. "Relax, Sara," she encouraged. "If Gil is feeling well enough for a trim after you've had your breakfast, then you can go right ahead. I'm just teasing you."

Sara's nose curled. "You're mean," she accused.

"I'm your mother," Laura replied, taking a hold of Grissom's bed sheet and removing it from his body. "I'm allowed to be. Now go eat breakfast while I change these and get Gil into some fresh pajamas…"

CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI

Sara did as she was told and ate her breakfast, albeit quickly, before returning to Grissom's room with shaving gear in hand. Laura left her daughter to her task and now Grissom, with a towel under his chin, watched as Sara mixed the paste together in a bowl.

"It brings back a few memories doing this," Sara said as she popped the shaving brush into the cream and coating it. Turning to face him, she held up the brush.

"Yes it does," he agreed.

Licking her lips as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, Sara placed a gentle hand under his chin. "You're sure you have the energy for this?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

Smiling softly, Sara began applying the cream to his chin, coating his overgrown beard with dabs of white goo. Once the bowl was empty, she placed it down and reached for the razor blade. Carefully pulling it open, she repositioned herself and held up the implement.

"Do you trust me?"

Grissom's lips twitched as his eyes glanced to the blade before falling back to her stare.

"Intimately…"

*** - "I HAVE SAVED HIM." It was not another of the dreams in which he had often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a vague but heavy fear was upon her..."

*** - Extract taken from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

A/N: Awww, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Makes such a change from a huge pile of angst. Hmmm... am I hearing bells? Thoughts please. Have a great day!