Oh my God! I am so sorry to keep you waiting for the last chapter of this! I really thought I could have it within the few days after posting the first chapter, but it turns out that year 11 is more demanding than I thought it would be, plus it's mine and my friends 16th coming up VERY soon, and we've been planning our party! So it's just been busy! I am taking full opportunity of today though, because our school swimming carnival is on, but it's not compulsory for seniors to go, so I'm staying at home, with a ton of stories that need typing up….so, on with the show!
At some point during the night, a bed was wheeled in next to him and he felt compelled to look over.
"Mr. Grissom? Miss Sidle wanted to see you, she wouldn't let us take her down to ICU until she saw that you were alright. Would you like to talk to her?"
He didn't offer an answer, instead he rolled over to be facing her, staring directly at her broken features.
They had wheeled the bed in closer than he had first thought, but he found himself not caring.
The two nurses quietly left the room, so that just Sara and Grissom were in it.
"Hey," he figured that was a good place to start.
"Hey," she echoed, reaching across the tiny gap and bringing her hand to his cheek, "You could've killed us," she added softly.
"I'm sorry," he brought his own hand up to rest upon hers on his face.
"It's OK," she closed her eyes, "At least I would have been with you," she opened her eyes again at the feel of his lips passing over her palm. She let a tear fall from the many pooling in her eyes.
"I'm still in the red, Griss. They don't think I can pull through, I lost too much blood and my body's not coping with it."
"Don't say it Sara," he pleaded, she could pull through, she always did.
"I have to. Griss, you know how I feel about you, you know all of it. I just need to hear you say it. One is all I'm asking. Please?"
"Sara, you're going to be fine, and then I'll tell you."
He heard her sob quietly and felt his own tears welling up.
"Griss…please," she asked again, feeling his hand holding hers as tightly as he could.
He kissed it lightly again and then, pain and all, heaved himself off his bed and on to hers.
There, he kissed her once on the forehead, once on the tip of her nose and once on her cheek.
"I love you more than you could ever know, Sara Sidle."
This time his lips met hers in a kiss that started out slowly and tentatively, but grew more passionate as her time grew less.
When they broke apart, he softly kissed her bottom lip once more and whispered through his own tears, "Don't leave."
But with her dying wish fulfilled, the internal bleeding took over.
One whisper and she was gone, "I love you too, Gil. Look in the red box."
Then he cried.
When he was discharged from hospital his first stop was Sara's apartment.
He pulled the keys out of the brown paper bag that held all of her personal effects, and opened the door.
It still smelt like her, and he found himself smiling slightly at the thought of her. He moved inside and closed the door behind him.
He saw it immediately; the red painted box atop her bookshelf in the far corner. Still wobbly on his crutches, he moved forward and clumsily pulled it down from its high resting spot. He took a seat in one of Sara's lounges and pulled of the box's lid. He was shocked to see a picture of himself staring back at him.
He pulled it out and found that it had been taken the very year they had met.
He smiled sadly, wishing he had started his life with her then, but none-the-less picked out the next object in the box.
He found it to be the first present he had ever bought for her; a small butterfly pendant on a silver chain. He had bought it for her on one of his few visits to San Francisco, before she had moved to Vegas, but after he had lectured at her college.
He rummaged deeper and deeper into the box and found himself immersed in memories. Photo's of them taken together in photo booths, little presents he had given to her, pictures of the team, tickets from rollercoaster's that they had been on together.
He heard a noise from behind him and found Sara standing in the door way. Three weeks of intensive care had done her well and Grissom realised he was more in love with her than ever.
"You found it?"
"Well, what do you think?"
He stood and limped over to her, forgetting the crutches her wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully avoiding fading scars, "I think we need to add to it."
He leaned in to kiss her softly, "I'm so glad the doctors were wrong."
She pecked him lightly on the lips, "Me too."
He had cried for so long, or at least t felt like a long time. In reality it was only thirty seconds before the nurses came it at the sound of the heart monitor attached to Sara. Grissom was swiftly moved back to his bed and Sara wheeled out of the room.
He could hear the nurses talking outside his room, "Doctor Callaghan is willing to give her another shot. The O.R is empty, we can go straight down there."
"There's no point, you saw her, she's a mess on the inside. There's too much damage."
"Callaghan's the best, she needs this chance."
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Grissom found himself thinking, 'I need this chance,' and when he went back to try and listen, they were gone.
3 months later.
"You coming to bed, Honey?" Sara called from their bedroom.
"In a sec," he called back, closing the lid of the red box, having just added an ultrasound picture of their child to their memories.
He walked up the hall, turning off the lights as he went.
When he entered the bedroom he saw Sara lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, a slight bump holding up the covers. He climbed in next to her and placed a hand over her stomach.
"What are you thinking?" he asked softly.
"This is real, isn't it?" she rhetorically asked, "We're together, we're having a baby together, we're not getting fired for being together. Everything is going right," she looked at him and smiled, "I guess all we needed was a second chance."
He kissed her forehead, "And the rest is just a memory."
Hope you enjoyed! PLEASE REVIEW! it's the best feeling to be recognized! Even if you're telling me what I did wrong in the story. Constructive criticism always helps!