A/N: The magic of this chapter falls solely on co-writer JellybeanChiChi, and an amazing job she did, too!

CHAPTER 47

Although Sara had left the hospital two hours prior, Grissom couldn't keep his mind off of her. She came after her shift and wanted to stay longer, but Grissom convinced her since she would arrive extra early the next morning for his surgery, she should go home and rest now.

After all, she wasn't just looking after herself anymore. The Grissom family would welcome the new year with a new baby. And what didn't seem possible even a few days ago, it seemed like Grissom would be able to witness the event as a free man.

As fortunate as he felt, he couldn't avoid the feelings of shame and disappointment in himself. There was Sara pregnant, taking care of Daniel alone while he was in a hospital bed getting catered by nurses and doctors. He was such a fool to run down those stairs. Grissom hated his newfound out-of-control nature. He didn't care how that nature caused him pain, but he despised how his faults have caused Sara distress and harm.

At the very least, he should be at home helping with Daniel. But now? He was an out of work husband and father who just did a stint in jail and was laid up in the hospital and soon in a rehab. And why? Because he let his emotions get out of control with his wife's ex-lover, which opened the door for a mad man to ruin his life.

Not to mention it caused a 35-year-old man to lose his life. Grissom knew Jake Sullivan was not a kind man. He berated Grissom and Jake sought Sara as a possession that was rightfully his.

But that didn't mean Grissom wanted Jake dead. He simply wanted him gone. Yet, in the back of his mind, Grissom wondered if Jake's family blamed Grissom for the younger man's death, in the same vein as Tyler Darrow's family.

He never wanted Tyler Darrow to die. And for the first time in more than two decades, Grissom mourned never seeking forgiveness from Darrow's family for the unintentional part he played in Darrow's death.

As those words floated in his head, he thought of Sara again. She wanted him to go into counseling, treatment for his mental health. He wondered if it would even work. He had so much more important things to pursue to get the family stable — like finding a job with his now-tarnished reputation.

But if that's what she wanted, he would do it. He had to work for her because she deserves more than him.

A knock on his open door broke him out of his thoughts. Grissom looked up to see a visitor and glanced at the clock. "I thought visiting hours were over?"

"Sometimes having a badge has its perks."

Jim Brass stood in the doorway with his rumpled suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Grissom could just see his rolled-up tie sticking out of the pocket. "Mind if I come in?"

"No… I don't mind," Grissom said softly.

Jim walked in slowly and grabbed the chair near Grissom's bed. He hung his jacket on the back of the chair before taking a seat. "So. How are you?"

Grissom shrugged his head. "I have surgery tomorrow."

"Knee, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm surprised they didn't operate on it the first time around."

"If I hadn't fucked up some more there wouldn't be a second time around."

"Come on, Gil. Don't you think you should cut yourself some slack?"

"I'm not sure anymore, Jim." The two sat in silence unsure what to say. "How...ah… Everything OK with you?"

Jim laughed out loud. "Still working too much, drinking too much. Had to make a claim with my insurance company for a tree that fell on my shed. But it's not like I can complain about my life to you."

Grissom's face twisted with irritation. "I was just asking as a friend."

"Yeah, I know." Jim stood up and paced until he stood at the foot of Grissom's bed. "You're being a helluva better friend to me right now than I have been to you the last few months. When all that shit went down I never bothered to try and get in touch with you or visit."

"I didn't want any visitors in prison," Grissom interrupted.

"Doesn't matter if I never tried," Jim said as he tapped his hand on the foot rail. "I tried to keep up with the case. Bowden shared details when he could. But I feel like a shit. I feel like I left you hanging by yourself and, I tried to keep tabs on Sara, but with our different schedules… I didn't even know she was suspended until a few days ago."

Grissom listened critically but didn't say anything. Knowing the man he was, Jim gave his friend the time he needed. He returned to the chair and sat back down. "Gil, don't think my not being around was because I believed any of the bullshit."

Grissom took a deep breath. "I appreciate that, Jim. I do wish you were around for Sara. Kills me that she was dealing with everything without support."

"But she had the rest of the team."

"No," Grissom said gravely. "She didn't."

Jim rubbed his hands on his thighs. "I didn't know that."

They fell into silence again until Brass saw the sonogram on Grissom's tray table. "Hey, is that what I think it is?"

For the first time since he arrived, Jim saw a smile spread across his friend's face. Because he missed being there for the sonogram, Grissom begged Sara to let him keep the photo with him while in the hospital and rehab.

He looked lovingly at the photo before passing it to Jim. "It is. We're expecting."

"Another kid?" Brass said incredulously. "Is this one's nickname gonna be 'whoops?'"

"Absolutely not," Grissom said. "We were trying. We didn't want Daniel to be an only child and when we considered or ages, Sara and I agreed not to wait too long."

"Well, in that case congratulations," Brass said standing up to put the photo back on Grissom's tray table. "Hoping for a girl this time?"

"I haven't even thought of that," Grissom said. "After everything that's happened, I'm grateful I have the freedom to see this sonogram. I'm just looking forward to being able to witness the pregnancy and see the birth."

There was an unspoken reason Brass didn't even consider seeing Grissom while he was in prison or even when he was just out. He would never admit it out loud, but Brass couldn't bear seeing his friend behind bars or lying in a hospital bed after having the shit beat outta him. It was bad enough seeing his friend lay up, pale, about 20 pounds lighter and with remnants of his attacks still visible.

"You know, Gil," Brass started, having to pause to collect what he wanted to say, "I was worried about you. About whether you'd make it through. And here you are, on the other side. You made it through."

"Barely," Grissom said. "I'm not sure I could have lasted longer and if I had to go back again…"

"But you don't," Brass said. "You made it through, buddy. Don't lose sight of that."

Grissom offered an introspective look that slowly drifted from meeting Brass' eyes to another part of the room. Brass couldn't guess what Grissom might have been thinking, but he had hoped his words of encouragement might filter in his friend's subconscious.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom saw Brass reaching for his coat. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, before they kick me out," he said with a smile. "You gonna be OK tomorrow?"

"No worse than I am now, I suppose."

"That's the spirit," Jim said placing a hand on Grissom's shoulder. "Listen, I might not have been around for you the last few weeks, but if you need something while you're in rehab, give me a call."

"I don't think Sara would appreciate if I were to try and escape rehab."

"Hey, I'd tell you 'no' anyways. You think I want to incur the wrath of Sara Sidle?" Brass said. "No, I mean if you need a burger because the food is shit or you need me to pick up something from the store, don't hesitate, OK?"

Shopping? Grissom said to himself. He thought about the offer and smiled at Brass. "I might take you up on that, Jim."

"Good. You should," Brass said, putting his jacket on. "Take care, buddy."

"Can you pass me my baseball glove?"

"Your what?"

"My baseball glove."

"Why do you need your baseball glove?"

"To play baseball with Daniel. He's waiting for me in the car."

"Oh really? In his car seat?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Grissom said staring straight at his wife. "He's driving."

"Oh, I see," Sara said. "So where exactly is your baseball glove?"

"Right there."

"Right where?"

"On my desk."

"I'm not seeing it. What's it next to?"

"Miss Piggy. You can't miss it."

"I see your Roy Rogers certificate…"

"To the right of that…"

"There's your crossword puzzle. Oops. You're missing a 12-letter word for 'person who travels widely.'"

"Globetrotter," he said without skipping a beat. "Did you find the glove?"

"Yes. See? I put it in front of you."

"Oh, there it is. You found it!"

He seemed genuinely excited, which made Sara smile. "I did find it."

"You look lovely in that dress."

"This old thing," she said as she pressed down her clothes.

"It's gorgeous. I love you in red. I want to take you dancing."

"I would like that, but I thought you were going to play baseball?"

"We can dance here."

"Are you sure? There's no music."

"Really, I can hear music in my head."

"I have no doubt about that, hon," Sara said ruefully, grabbing his hand. "But isn't Daniel waiting for you?"

"No, he came inside, silly. He's behind you with his little brother. I really love those two."

"Me too," she said with a squeeze. "So, his little brother, huh?"

"Yeah," Grissom said as he closed his eyes.

He fell asleep and his breathing mingled with the sounds of his heart monitor. The knee surgery went well, but Grissom had yet to wake up fully from the anesthesia.

Sara laid a kiss upon Grissom's forehead. She truly enjoyed his bizarre, post-surgical conversation. She stood for a moment and looked down at her attire — yoga pants and a peasant shirt, a far cry from any red dress she owned.

She stilled her palm upon her stomach and wondered when she might first feel a flutter of the new baby. Although she knew it was too soon to feel anything, she knew it was never too early for the baby to hear mommy's voice.

"So it seems that daddy thinks you're a boy," she said softly. "And he already loves you as much as I do."

Two days after surgery, Grissom was transported to the rehab, which he would call home for the next seven days. He was glad he convinced Sara not to wait at the hospital with him for the transport. Although the doctor discharged him at 8:30 a.m., the transport didn't arrive until 2 p.m. Although not a long ride, he was put in his room and then offered the opportunity for a therapy session.

He was tired, but Grissom wanted nothing more than to be as physically healthy as possible for when he returned home, he accepted the opportunity.

And now he was on his bed wondering if he made the right decision. He truly hadn't moved around like that in a long while and doing so with a healing knee didn't make the exercises easier.

"But no pain, no gain," he said as he lay in his bed on top of the covers staring at the ceiling. "What a stupid saying."

His monologue caused his roommate to chuckle. "They'll work you to death, I tell ya, if you aren't careful. They say they're therapists, but I think they're sadists with weights and exercise balls."

Still staring at the ceiling, Grissom lightly chuckled. "But it's all worth it, right?"

"I'll tell you in three days when I break outta here," the older man said.

All the sudden his joke to Jim about escaping rehab didn't seem like a joke anymore. But after a few minutes, he heard a knock on their door, which led Grissom to gingerly sit up in his bed.

It was an attendant who brought Grissom back from his first physical therapy session. "Mr. Grissom. I was checking to see if you needed help getting washed."

Grissom nodded and the man in his late 20s came to the bed to assist in moving to the bathroom. As he did, Grissom had a pressing question. "Do you know the Wi-Fi password for my laptop?"