No, they are not my property and I am not making any money out of this.

This story is told from Grissom's POV

Spoilers:  Burden of Proof, Early Rollout

Pairing:  Grissom and Sara.

This story gets a little sad at times  but it has a happy ending.

Thank you for reviewing this story.  It means a lot to me that you like it, since don't speak English and I have some difficulties with descriptions…

UNDER THE INFLUENCE (revised version)

The phone call came at 9:00 in the morning, just as I was driving home.  The man didn't identify himself, but I would recognize his voice anywhere.  It was Officer Fromanski.

"One of your people's in trouble." He said curtly.

"Who?  What's wrong?"

"Be here, now" he replied, giving me an address and hanging up. 

I hesitated.  Fromanski was a free man thanks to CSI but I didn't think he was the kind of man who'd forget any offenses, real or assumed; I wasn't going to trust him so easily. I put my gun in my pocket and drove fast, wondering what the hell he wanted.

**

An ambulance was pulling away by the time I arrived and I felt a sudden dread.  I had not taken his words seriously enough and now it seemed that he'd been telling the truth; someone was in trouble.

Fromanski was leaning on his squad car wiping his dark glasses.  His bland expression didn't change when I approached him. 

"What happened?" I asked, "Is someone in that ambulance?"

"Nah, she wasn't badly hurt." Fromanski said, tilting his head in his car's direction, "She was DUI and had a minor accident. Car had to be towed away.  No victims, except that tree." He pointed, but I kept my eyes on the passenger inside the car.  Sara.  She briefly looked up and then hurriedly away.

"She didn't want me to call you," Fromanski explained, "but I thought you should deal with it.  It was either you or Court."

"Thank you" I said and opened the door to see what shape she was in. She had a bruise on her forehead and a bandaged hand, but other than that, she looked OK.

"Sara?"

She didn't turn to me, but opened the door on her side of the car and got out.  I turned to talk to Fromanski, but he spoke first.

"She needs a good talkin' to." He said,  "Next time she might not be so lucky and wind up killing someone or doing-"

"I know."  I interrupted, "Thank you for calling me."

"We're even." he retorted, carefully putting on his glasses. He got in his car and drove away. 

I turned to Sara, who was standing on the sidewalk, still refusing to look at me.  I wanted to ask her what the hell had happened, but anger would lead me nowhere.  I took a deep breath.

"Let's go"  I said,  "I'll take you home"

She turned and walked unsteadily to the car.

"You really are drunk" I frowned "Do you need any help?"

"I don't" she retorted.  I opened the door for her and placed my hand over her head to prevent her from hurting herself, but she shook me off.  "I'm not a perp" she protested and entered the car by herself.

I got in and waited for some explanation from her, but she just stared ahead.  I asked her if she needed any medical attention then.

"The EMT cleared me" she replied, slightly slurring her words.  She gulped "Please, just… drop me at my place"

I drove, glancing at her now and then, wondering what to do.  If it had been one of the guys I would have known what to say, but with Sara I'm usually tongue-tied and today it was worse.

"Were you at a party?" I ventured and her glare was eloquent enough.  "All right, you were not.  You left CSI and you managed to get this drunk in what, three hours?" I stopped at a red light and a thought came to me "You were already drinking at the lab?"

"No!" she quickly replied "I wouldn't.  Not there."

The light changed and I continued driving.

"Why did you do it, Sara? You've processed dozens of car accident victims; you know what drinking and driving can do." I glanced at her.

"Next time I won't drive, then," she replied, and she actually smiled.  It was a sarcastic, lopsided smile that marred her face and made me shiver. 

"It's not funny," I glared, "You could have died back there. You could have killed someone"

She didn't comment and we remained silent during the rest of the drive.  When we arrived at her building she muttered 'sorry' and hurriedly got out of the car.

"Sara, wait." I called out, getting out of the car "We need to talk"

"Nothing to talk about." she said, without turning, "I drank too much and I shouldn't have.  I won't do it again."

"Wait," I said, reaching her and grasping her arm as gently as I could. "We need to-"

"Leave me alone," she protested, wrestling her arm away.

"I'll walk you upstairs." I insisted, "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

She stopped and to my surprise, began to laugh. 

"You…" she gulped, and her words punctuated her chuckles, "YOU… don't …want… ME… to get hurt! …"  Her laughter was becoming hysterical and I grabbed her arm, not bothering to be gentle this time.

"Enough!" I hissed.  My anger surprised her so much that she didn't protest when I dragged her to her building. 

The man at the desk frowned when he saw us.

"Party." I shrugged, and the guy winked conspiratorially, letting me in.  My God, he didn't really care that I was practically manhandling this girl up to her place!  It reminded me of all those cases of date rape that I'd processed in my career and I wondered how many times Sara had come like this, with someone else.  It angered me, but just as I was going to scold her, I realized that I was still holding her close to me by force and  I released her arm.  She crossed her arms against herself and walked as far away from me as she could, her face expressionless. 

When we got to her place she had some trouble opening the door but once she did she quickly entered and tried to close the door on my face.   It took me by surprise, but I quickly pushed my shoulder in.

"Sara, we have to-"

"Go away!" she grunted, pushing the door against me. "I'll scream if you don't leave!"

"You won't." I said, secure in the knowledge that she'd never do anything to hurt me.  "I need to see that everything's all right" I said and pushed my way in. 

"Go away!" She cried, trying to push me out but it was too late. 

"Oh, Sara..." I muttered.

Her place was a mess.  Bottles.  Bottles everywhere. Some were empty and dusty, others were half empty...  I looked at her and she was blushing, hesitating between anger and shame.

"Just leave," she said coldly. "Just leave, Grissom. You have no right to do this."

Beer, wine.  Red, white...   My anger dissolved.  I turned to her.  She was trembling, standing in the middle of her ruined home.  I cradled her face with my hands.

"Sara, why?… " I asked softly, "Do you realize what this could do to your work at the lab?"

She jerked away from me, looking as if she couldn't believe what I was saying.

"The lab," she said and then she chuckled softly, too tired to laugh. "Jesus, Grissom, you're a… You, you're a…" she gulped, "I-I can't believe you…you… Oh, God."  she suddenly clamped a hand on her mouth and fled to the kitchen and was violently sick.  She was heaving violently and painfully; sometimes there was a brief pause and then she was throwing up again. 

Eventually she stopped, but she remained hunched over the sink, breathing harshly.

After a while, I went to her and tentatively patted her back, trying to comfort her.  She jumped away in fright.  Apparently she hard forgotten I was there.

"Grissom!" she cried, "For God's sake, leave me alone!!" she begged, and she frantically began to wash up the sink.

I grabbed some paper towels and dampened them

"Here." I whispered and started to clean up her face.

"No.  No, no" she said, walking backwards, trying to flee from me.

"Sara, honey, let me, please." I said as tenderly as I could, "Please."

All fight went from her.  I cleaned her face and then filled a bowl with water to wash the vomit off her hair. 

She looked away, holding back the tears until she simply couldn't anymore. 

"Shhh, Sara," I whispered, trying to pull her in my arms.

"Please, leave me alone…" she sobbed, pushing me away, "Please, Grissom-"

"I can't, Sara," I whispered, closing my arms around her, "We're friends, remember? "

She stopped fighting me and suddenly she was openly weeping, holding me close to her, as if she needed me more than anything in the world.  Se eventually stopped crying, but we remained like that.  It felt good to hold her like this. 

"It's so ironic" she said suddenly, her words muffled against my shoulder.

"What is?"

"That I had to puke to get you to touch me"

Her words reminded me that I was holding her because she was drunk and needed help, not for any other reason.

I held my breath for a moment but she didn't say more and I released her.

She stumbled away from me and sat on a stool by the kitchen counter.  I looked at her for a moment and then I sat beside her.

"Sara," I cleared my throat, "I have a friend who can help."

"I don't need-" 

"Please, Sara." I interrupted, "He's someone you can talk to." I insisted. "You know that this has to stop"

"For the good of the lab." she said bitterly, "Right"

"And for your health, too.  Your life.  You're taking some terrible risks here." And I told her about the easy attitude of the guy downstairs.

She stared at the only window in the living room.

"I know it's wrong, it's just..." she shook her head.

"It's just?"  I insisted, but she didn't say anything else. "Will you see this friend?  It isn't AA, but he's someone who'll listen" she didn't say anything and I insisted, "Sara?"

"Let me go" she whispered.

"Go where?" I frowned

"Please, Grissom." She pleaded softly, "I can't go on like this."

"That's true," I agreed.

"Then let me go." She said, looking at me "Sign it this time. Please"

Suddenly, I understood.  The Leave of Absence form that I had refused to sign years ago was still in her possession.

I tried not to panic.

"Sara, I can't-" 

"Please.  There's nothing for me here." Her lips trembled, "I don't even like my job anymore." she sighed "And you... you're bad for my self-esteem."

"I'm sorry-" I mumbled.

"It's not your fault," she said quickly, "It's mine.  I gave you my life without asking if you wanted it."

I froze.  She had never talked to me like this, so openly, and I couldn't find the right thing to say.

"You didn't want it and I…I've come to terms with that Grissom".

"Sara, I -"

"I want my life back, now."

I briefly considered her words, but I didn't want to deal with them at that moment.

"I'll call my friend and make an appointment for you." I said, taking out my cell phone.

"I told you I won't drink anymore-"

"Good." I nodded, "You'll need some help though, so this is what you're going to do: Take some aspirin and go to sleep.  I'll call my friend and set an appointment for you.  I'll come back at noon, bring something light to eat and then we'll talk.  All right?"

She looked at me sadly.

"You didn't even listen to me"

"I did. But right now you need to sleep.  All right?"  I repeated.  I took her hand.  It was cold and damp. "You'll feel better after you rest.  Do you have any aspirin?  You'll need some fluids too"

"I'm exhausted, Grissom" she whispered.

"I know, honey.  Do you have any aspirin?" I insisted.

"That drawer" she pointed.  I rummaged through it and found a bottle.  I opened the fridge and found some apple juice- and more wine and beer.  I handed her the juice and the aspirin, "Take two pills and drink the juice slowly."  She quietly obeyed. "You'll feel better afterwards" I said brightly.  "Now, go to sleep."

She nodded slowly and, clutching her bottle, she hesitatingly walked down the aisle to her room.

"Do you need help?" I offered but she shook her head.  Of course she didn't.  She had been through enough embarrassments already, and she didn't want to be treated as an invalid. 

I only hoped that she didn't have booze in her bedroom too.

I sighed.  I couldn't believe this was happening.  Sara, one of the strongest women I had ever met shouldn't be having this kind of trouble. Yes, she had looked a bit fragile to me a few weeks ago, but I never suspected this!  I just thought she was working too hard.  Now that I saw the mess she had been sinking into, I felt sad for her. 

Oh, Sara. So sensitive; always taking her cases so personally… My Sara, so lonely.  So unlucky too, falling for the wrong men.  First me, then that idiot who cheated on her…

But I was the worst, wasn't I?  After all, she had given her life to me….

Suddenly I needed to get busy:  I took the empty bottles and piled them by the door and I emptied the rest in the sink; I washed the sink and cleaned the fridge; I checked the kitchen and the living room for more booze and found nothing, but I kept looking, just in case.  A whirl of activity to drown out the memory of what she had said to me. 

But naturally, once I stopped cleaning and washing, her words came to my mind.

"I can't go on like this"

'She is just a little sick,' I said to myself, dismissively, 'She only needs a little rest and then she'll come around. She's just ashamed and she thinks I'm disappointed, but we'll get over this.  Things will go back to normal as soon as she gets a little help.'

I looked around, glad that at least I had cleaned up her home.  By the time she woke up she would  feel better and I'd have an appointment for her.  I'd take her to my friend, who would talk to her and devise a plan of recovery, and in a matter of days she'd be back to normal. 

"You didn't even listen to me"

I sighed. Oh, Sara, if she would only know how wrong she was.  I listened to every single word, but it was easier to pretend she hadn't said anything.

I wanted to stay busy, so I started to make a mental list of things to do:  Make phone calls, buy her some groceries… some flowers too, to brighten up her place... 

'No, not flowers,' I corrected myself; 'A plant' 

Déjà vu.  And that's when I saw it.  On a high shelf, all by itself; a thriving orchid in a red ceramic pot. The plant I'd given her some time ago as a peace offering. 

I approached it to examine it closely. It was healthy, lovely, and strong, just as she had been just a few months ago, and the thought was inevitable:  She taken better care of a plant than of herself.

I touched the velvety leaves and suddenly I could see Sara, drinking beer for breakfast but carefully watering her little plant.  Nurturing it.

I looked at this plant that I had given her as a consolation prize; a little crumb of the love I felt but would never be able to give her. I remembered how glad I was that Sara had accepted my gift; so relieved, too that she had forgiven me for not having the guts to deliver it in person.  She must have told herself that it was a start; that some day I'd come around and tell her that I loved her. 

Now I realized that this hope had chained her to me and to a job that she said she didn't like anymore. 

I realized too that instead of giving her this plant I should have talked to her and explain that I'd never be able to give her what she needed; that I couldn't start a relationship with her because I was afraid that one day she'd leave me and get on with her life, while I remained behind, more lonely than ever, incapable of moving on. 

But I didn't tell her any of this.  I simply hoped she'd get over it.

What I hadn't anticipated was that she'd suffer like this. That she'd discover that I was bad for her self-esteem.

"Sara… I'm so sorry" I whispered, horrified by my discovery. Up until that day I hadn't realized I had this destructive influence on anybody.  I was as bad as the wine and the beer that had made her sick…

I looked at the darkened hallway and after a few minutes, I went to her bedroom.  It was dark, but I could see her lying on her side, her arms wrapped around herself.  She was so thin; a shadow of the Sara that came to Vegas years ago.

I made my decision, then.  If she wanted to leave, I'd let her go.  It was the least I could do after all she had lost because of me.   

But if she still wanted me... I'd say yes this time.  Not because I thought I was the right man for her, God knows I wasn't.  But if she still needed me, I'd be there and love her; love her until she needed to move on.  I wouldn't let my fears hurt her anymore.  

I kneeled by her bed and prayed.

"Get well, Sara, please.  I'll do anything.  I'll say yes to anything you ask me. Just, please, get well.  Please, please…"

.

Part 2

Eventually, I left.  She seemed so exhausted that it felt safe to leave her alone, while I made my phone calls and went to the grocery store. 

When I returned at noon, I went straight to her room to check up on her.  She was breathing evenly and hadn't moved from her balled up position in the middle of the bed.

I sat on the floor, and looked around.

Her room seemed to be her sanctuary from the world outside.  The curtains were dark and thick and they kept the room safe from sunlight and traffic noises.  As far as I could see, she didn't have any booze here.  There were books piled everywhere, though.  Textbooks most of all; a few mysteries.  Each had a bookmark in the middle, as if she had been unable to concentrate on any of them for long. 

"How are your days like, Sara?" I asked softly, "What do you do for a diversion?"

Stupid questions; by now it was clear what she had been doing. 

There was a time when I had tried to help her find a diversion, but she resisted me and I didn't insist.

I guess I would have known how to help if she had been someone else; I've helped other people, after all. I mean, I was able to help Warrick.  I'm friendly with Catherine and it's never been difficult to have her over for dinner at my place; we're friends and that's that.  But with Sara, I'd always had the feeling that there was something else behind any gesture of mine.  Asking her to dinner would always feel like a date and I'd try to take her hand. If we went to the movies, I'd spend two hours trying not to put my arm around her shoulders.

I was ashamed to admit this, but apparently I didn't know how to be her friend anymore.  And I didn't know how to be a lover either.

A soft moan from her brought me out of these gloomy thoughts.  She was waking up.  

I froze; I knew that I should leave but a part of me wanted to see her wake up… Just in case I never got another chance.

She sighed and turned until she was on her back.  She groaned when she tried to sit up, so she stopped.  It took her a little while, but finally she slowly sat up, moaning a little and keeping her eyes shut.

She lifted a trembling hand to rub her face and winced when she accidentally touched the bruise.  She gingerly touched it again and then she slowly opened her eyes.  She looked down and examined her bandaged hand.

"Oh, sh-" she whispered, shaking her head and regretting it.  She surely had one hell of a headache.  "Oh, God-" she muttered.

She kept her head down for a moment.  Finally, gathering all her strength, she swung her legs off the bed and started unbuttoning her blouse. 

I quickly stood up and cleared my throat to warn her of my presence. She cried out in fright and turned around, almost falling off the bed.

"Sara, hey, it's Ok, it's me!" I said lifting both hands.

"Grissom!" she gasped, more angry than scared now, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you were all right-"

"I am." She said curtly, turning her head away from me and covering her bruise with her good hand, "Please, leave."

"All right," I said, trying to placate her by retreating to the hallway. "I'll be in the kitchen."

**

She took a long shower. 

When she finally appeared, she was wearing sweatpants and thick socks and her hair was still wet. 

She was in pain.  She must have a headache and by the way she was holding her bandaged hand close to her, it was obvious that it was hurting, too.  She silently accepted some aspirin and a glass of water.

"Put this on your forehead," I said, handing her a plastic bag filled with crushed ice.  She carefully pressed it against her face and blindly felt around for a chair and sat. After a while she removed the bag, but she kept her eyes closed for a while.  I stared at her.  It was shocking to see her like this.  Without all the make up she'd been wearing lately, I could see how blemished her skin was, and the purple blotches that marred her eyes.

She suddenly opened her eyes and looked straight at me.

"What?" she glared, "I look like hell, I know. You don't have to look at me like that."

"Drink this," I said, placing a tall glass in front of her.

"What is it?" she sniffed the thick liquid and made a face.

"Hangover cure. Drink it." I insisted, "It smells foul but trust me, it'll help. They used to make pitchers of this in College"

She held her breath and drank half.  Her face contorted.  She would have looked funny in other circumstances.

"Oh, yuck, what did you put in this?"

"Finish it." I said evasively.  Her lips trembled and she hesitated.  "Sara, it'll help, I promise."

She sighed and drank the rest.  She put the ice back on her bruise and closed her eyes again.

I kept busy, fixing a salad.  I had bought just enough groceries to feed her lunch and dinner.  She would be away for a long time and it didn't make sense to buy more. 

I fixed two plates and placed one in front of her. 

"I hope you like mushrooms" I said brightly, sitting beside her. "Eat, Sara."

She put the ice bag down and picked up a fork.  She played with her food for a while, but it was clear that she wasn't hungry.  After a moment she cleared her throat.

"Grissom." She said, looking at her plate, "I…I am sorry about this.  I made a mistake and…well… I learned my lesson." She lifted her gaze, "You don't have to watch over me.  I won't drink again."

"I believe you." I said gently, "But this wasn't a one-time binge, Sara.  We both know there's something more serious going on here."

"You don't think I can stop on my own?" There was a touch of resentment in her voice.

"You might be able to stop." I admitted, "But what worries me is the fact that you started to drink in the first place.  There is always a reason for this.  Do you remember what I told you about a friend?" I paused, waiting for her answer. I insisted. "Sara, do you remember what I said?"

"Yes," she replied, exasperated, "But I don't need to talk to anybody!  It's not his problem anyway and it's certainly not yours!"

"Of course it is." I replied calmly, "I care about you. And yes, I am concerned about the lab, too." I said pointedly, "If a defense lawyer learns about this, every case you have worked on this year will be put under investigation by Internal Affairs…"

"Let them," she said defiantly, "My work is fine!"

"… And we'll end up losing half of those cases because it's more politically correct to be a sober murderer than a drunken investigator." I finished callously, "You're always saying how much you care about the victims, Sara; you don't want that to happen, do you?"

She angrily stabbed a few bits of lettuce with her fork and didn't answer. 

"We'll keep this between you and me." I continued, "I called Fromanski.  He filed the call as an accident due to a third party that left the scene, and nobody tested you for alcohol; he says we're safe and I believe him." I waited for a reaction but didn't get any, so I went on with my plans. "Tonight you'll come to the lab and fill out requests for paid medical leave and a three-week vacation."

"Three weeks! No way!" she was outraged, "I'm working on a case and I have it almost figured it out!"

"Sara, you can't go back to the lab," I said emphatically, "Any lab, for that matter." I finished, in case she simply tried to quit.  "You'll hand me all the documentation concerning your current cases and file whatever you have pending.  Then you'll dedicate three weeks to yourself." I took a deep breath, "This friend I told you about has a clinic that passes as a 'spa'; it caters to movie stars and public figures with addiction problems, it's very discreet.  Don is a dedicated person and I trust him."

She didn't say anything and I continued. 

"I have a list of the items you'll have to bring to the Clinic," I said, searching for it in my pockets.  She sighed noisily.

"How much is it going to cost me, Grissom?"

I hesitated; I hadn't asked Don and I had simply assumed that I'd be paying.  I couldn't tell her that of course.

"Sara, right now you don't need to worry about the cost-"

"I'll get the money, Grissom." She interrupted, "I just need to know how much."

"You'll have to ask Don."  I said evasively.  I tentatively reached for her hand, "Sara, I have money too, all right? All that matters is you."

She looked at my hand on hers and all her bitterness seemed to dissolve.  Her eyes filled with tears.

"I told you that I…I .." she gulped, "I said awful things to you today."

"It's Ok-"

"It's not Ok." She contradicted.  "But the worst is that I still believe in what I said.  And I'm sorry, Grissom, but-"

"Sara, I understand," I said quickly, "Believe me, I do.  This is a very emotional time for you, and-"

"Grissom" she interrupted.  She took a deep breath and looked at me in the eye.  A tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful.  I mean, you're trying to be nice and you've done all this to help me, but…right now you're the last person I want to talk to." She looked down, "I can't take it, Ok?… I'd rather be alone for a while."

I released her hand.

"I understand." I said mechanically.  I gently pushed her plate towards her, "Eat a little, ok?"

I took my untouched plate and threw the food in the garbage can.  I cleaned up the mess  I'd made while preparing lunch- another whirl of activity to keep me from thinking.  But it was inevitable. 

I thought of the many times we had eaten lunch together and how I had taken for granted her company and her acceptance of me and all my quirks.

Now that even a little meal together seemed out of reach, I realized that contentment had been just a few inches away.  If I had extended my hand, the world would have been mine.

**

She looked uncomfortable as CSI personnel fussed over her.  The guys wanted to test her car to find clues about the perp who had caused her accident, but she gently persuaded them not to bother.   Nick insisted on having her cases handed to him and promised to keep her up to date in their developments.  She was evasive about what her plans were for this sudden vacation, but Greg kept after her, asking where she was going and with whom.  Warrick was more relaxed about it, simply suggesting what places to visit.

Catherine was more practical, taking Sara aside to teach her how to use make up to cover up her bruise.  Sara chuckled a little at that.

Only Brass didn't say anything; he just watched her.  When Sara met his gaze, she reddened and avoided looking his way again.  That was odd but I forgot all about it afterwards.  We had so much to do.

She held back tears when she handed me her keys and her gun.  It wasn't the first time she did it; she had gone on vacation before.  But this time she was leaving for a longer period of time and the circumstances were different.  Maybe she even thought she was leaving for good.  So she was sad, but her tears were also of anger and frustration. 

We didn't talk about this, though.  She used the little time she had to instruct Nick on how to handle her cases and Nick listened, good naturedly.

**

She was silent until we saw the building.  The clinic was far away from the city and it was set among some rocky hills.  It looked beautiful under the full moon.

"Three weeks," she sighed, "It's too long just to be sitting around."

"Maybe they'll teach you macramé," I teased but she didn't even glare.

She remained subdued as we entered the property.

It was a quiet place and very well staffed.  We didn't have to wait around; someone was already waiting for us.  This was clearly the kind of place where most visitors came at night.

A nurse came for her soon after we arrived, and the last I said to her was that I'd visit and to please call me if she needed anything.  She nodded and clutching her bag she followed the nurse.

Just before she went through the door, she turned.  She smiled and waved.

It was her shy smile.  The one I fell in love with when we met.

Third chapter

Don Mackenzie, the clinic's Director, was one of the few friends from College that I still talked to.   He lived at the Clinic, which allowed him to be there every time a new patient arrived. He was always busy, but as a personal favor he had promised to talk as soon as Sara's admission was processed. 

He was reading Sara's admission forms when I came in.

"Hey, Gil." He greeted and continued reading.  After a moment, he lifted his gaze from the sheets of paper "Did she resist coming here?"

"Well… yes, at first.  Actually, what pissed her off the most was the list of the things she had to pack." And I smiled, remembering the look on her face when she read it.

"…Tennis shoes… sandals…a dress?" she had said, looking up, "They want me to pack a dress?  What for?" she morosely continued reading it. When she finished it she demanded, "What's the name of this place, Grissom?  Do they have a website?  I'm not going there unless I know more about them…"

That sounded so much like the Sara I knew, that I gave her the name of the place and its founder, Donald Mackenzie.  By the time I left, she was hurrying to finish her salad, eager to investigate this spa.  But she was still protesting about the dress-

"…and according to you, she kept all the bottles?" Don asked, stopping my musing.

"Apparently.  Some were really dusty, as if they had been there for weeks."

"Uh, huh. That might mean that she wasn't in denial.  Some people hide all evidence of their binges and start each day as if nothing out of the ordinary happened."

"She's not in denial." I confirmed, "I think she's ashamed."

"Ashamed of what she did or ashamed that she got caught?"

"Both, I guess."  Don continued reading and after a moment, I spoke again. "Don, about the cost…I'd like to pay half."

"Why?" he asked neutrally. "You're neither her father nor her husband."

"Look, I think she's still paying student loans. I don't want her to feel burdened by debts on top of everything else."

He looked at me for a moment.

"You're feeling guilty, aren't you?" he didn't wait for an answer, "That's a normal reaction from friends and relatives, Gil. Listen." he put the papers down, "A person who enters a program of recovery needs to accept responsibility for their actions, and deal with the consequences, whatever they are: payment of debts, jail, health problems.  And they need help, sure, but with limitations." He explained, "In this case Sara is already in a position of disadvantage towards you, since you went against regulations to save her job." He lifted a hand to stop me from interrupting him. "That's bad enough, but owing you money on top of that would-"  He stopped and looked at me suspiciously, "Unless you want to keep it a secret?"

"Well… yeah."

He took off his reading glasses and leant back on his chair.

"Gil, did you tell me everything about your relationship with this woman or not?"

Actually, I had given him a small version of what I knew of Sara –including Hank- and a part of what our relationship had been like, up to the time when she asked me out.  I had been evasive, to say the least.

"Gil?  It's clear that she's in love with you, but what about you?  Do you love her?"

"I…"  I hesitated, "I guess…"

"Don't 'I guess' me.  If you love her, fine, if you don't, fine.  Just be honest with me." He waited for me to say something and then he added, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. That means you haven't been honest with her."  He sighed. "Gil, I want to make this clear:  Sara is my patient now.  I'll defend her right to get well against anything and anybody who interferes."

"Don, I'll do anything to help." I insisted, "Truly"

"Well, that's good, Gil. You can start by not paying for her treatment. If you do, she'll feel like she's doing this for your sake. She needs to do it because her life depends on it.  Understand? You can loan her the money if it's necessary, as long as you do it with all due formalities.  As for any feelings you have for her…" he said slowly, "If it turns out that they are part of the problem or the solution, I'll involve you. And even if they are not, please remember that her life will change after this. She might decide to leave her job and even this city, and you'll have to accept that."

"Absolutely." I said firmly, "Whatever she does, it'll be fine with me."

"Really? You'd give her up that easily?  That's very noble of you, Gil." He said appraisingly, "As her therapist I would approve.  Perhaps.  But as your friend…" he looked at me in the eye, "As your friend, I have to ask:  What do YOU want?"

"I want her to get well." I frowned.

"And nothing else?"

"No." I insisted and he nodded and looked at me thoughtfully and silently, like all therapists do when they want to make you talk. I stared back, unwilling to cooperate.  I knew he was too busy to keep this up.

"Oh, well." He said finally, "That's for you and your own therapist to figure out.  Although knowing you, you'll just bury yourself in work."  He shook his head, reprovingly.

"Look, just do your part, will you?" I interrupted morosely, "And don't charge her as if she were a movie star."

"Hey, those movie stars are the ones who keep this place open, so don't use that tone." He protested but he was smiling, "I'll work out something with her, don't worry.  Gil, I'm optimistic about her.  From what you've told me and simply by reading what she wrote here, I gather she's a strong woman,."

"She is…" I started, "…that's what makes all this so hard to understand."

"Oh." He took a deep breath, "Gil, you work with the PD, you know how stressing that work is; not everybody knows how to deal with the pressure.  It's the kind of job you can't casually talk about during dinner with your loved ones, is it? And it's hard on single people too.  Some people are comfortable with silence and solitude, like you, while others can't bear to be alone with their thoughts; they need to go out for a drink and for some company… and that's how it starts."

"I should have seen the signals." I lamented, "I mean, how can a smart woman like her-"

"She's a human being, Grissom." He interrupted, "Stop thinking of her as a perfect machine that can't do wrong. She isn't.  And you're not, either."  He glanced at the papers on his desk, "Anyway, tomorrow is a big day for her. Physical exams from seven to eleven… Then our first session at 4:00 in the afternoon."

"You'll see her until then?"

"I like to see them at their worst; after spending long hours in a bedroom by themselves…" he looked up and saw my expression, "Hey, don't worry, it won't be like that the following days.  She'll get plenty of exercise, she'll eat healthy food, she'll have some occupational therapy, and she'll have work to do."

"Work?"

"Oh, yes.  You see, some people come here to rest between binges.  We know that and they know that.  All I can do is reassure them that I'll be there if they want to stop.  But someone like Sara… it's hard work, Gil.  Not only physical."

**

She had given me the keys to her place.  She'd asked me to go now and then if I had the time.  Of course I'd go.  I'd rather be in her tiny living room/kitchen/dining area than at the lab or at my own place.

I entered and immediately saw it.  A white card resting against her PC.

'Could you please take care of my orchid?' the note said, followed by some instructions, ending with a stern, 'please don't move the pot' that was underlined twice.

She was forcing me to come to her place to take care of her little plant.

I smiled gratefully.  Of course I would come. It would be my own Occupational Therapy.

"All right, Sara." I said aloud, "I'll take care of our baby."

**

As per Don's instructions, I didn't visit until two days later. 

That first visit was brief and disastrous. 

I sat in an open area surrounded by a garden and tall walls.  I had chosen a table under a big umbrella and waited for her for a long time.  At last a glass door opened and a nurse came out, followed by her.  Sara nodded at something the nurse said and walked down the narrow path towards my table.  I was taken aback to see her looking worse than the day she had come; she was paler and thinner and she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.

"Honey, are you sure you're-"

"Don't 'honey' me" she interrupted brusquely, "that's your compassionate word and I hate it."

What could I say after that? We barely exchanged a couple of phrases about the lab before she admitted that she was tired.

"I can't sleep at night," she explained briefly, and then she asked if I knew my way back.  I nodded.

"Sara, if you need anything-"

"I'll be all right" she mumbled and left.  Her steps were hesitant as she walked down the path that lead to the housing area. 

Seeing her like this made me wonder if bringing her here had been such a good idea. I talked to Don but he was unmoved by my anger.  He calmly told me that yes, she looked bad; no, she wasn't sleeping well, and no, she wasn't eating well.  Finally he said that no, he couldn't tell me anything else; her parents were coming tomorrow and he would talk to them.

He tried to be friendly, though.  He asked me what I wanted.  Again. And just like the last time he'd asked that, I answered that I wanted her to get well.

He just shook his head.

**

My fourth visit went better.

She was already waiting for me at the same table we'd used before, the one with the big umbrella. I mused that if one ignored the tall walls that surrounded the garden, it felt as if we were at some fancy resort. I told her that and she nodded vigorously. She told me then that certain aspects of the treatment made her uncomfortable.

"I feel like some pampered wife-" she said and then she blushed, and talked about the massages and the work outs, and the unnecessary luxury.  She touched the sleeve of her t-shirt, the one they used as a sort of uniform.

"See this?  It's silk" she rolled her eyes, "Not cotton, Grissom.  Silk.  Oh, and those nightgowns-" she suddenly blushed.

"What about them?" I asked neutrally.

"Oh.  You know."  She was evasive now, "Lacy, complicated, things."

I was beginning to picture her in a lacy, complicated thing and had to force myself to stop.

"So. What else you do here?" I asked.

"Well… I have Occupational Therapy, a therapy session with Dr. Mackenzie or Dr. Sheen, an hour at the Gym… Oh, and I'm working in the kitchen now."  She chuckled when she saw my expression, "Yeah, I know.  I didn't like it at first until I thought, 'what the hell; this is better than cleaning up rest rooms along the highway', which is what I should be doing.  I mean, if Fromanski hadn't been on call that day."

Her tone was slightly bitter and I quickly changed the subject.

"Are you taking any medication?"

"Yes. I had the beginnings of an ulcer," she explained matter-of-factly, "and my vomiting was starting to damage my esophagus."

"You were vomiting much?"

"Yes.  My body had been rejecting the alcohol for some time." She looked down, "It seems that my body's smarter than my brain."

She was silent for a moment.  I told her that her coworkers were fine and missing her, and that things were ok at her home, but soon we both were silent again and it was uncomfortable.  We glanced at each other, both wanting to talk, probably, but afraid of saying the wrong thing.  For instance, I wanted to ask her why she had started to drink and if she still wanted to do it… but Don had asked me not to pressure her.  If I wanted to keep coming, I had to wait for her to tell me anything.  If she wanted to.

Finally she took a deep breath.

"Grissom, I'd like to…to…"

She closed her eyes in exasperation.

"I've been composing this speech for days and now I don't know how to begin." She opened her eyes and smiled sheepishly.  "It's just that… There's something I've wanted to tell you and never found the right words.  Grissom, when we were at my place…I'm… I'm afraid I gave you the impression that I was angry with you?" she barely gave me a chance to answer when she rushed on, "I wasn't, all right?  I was ashamed.  So much that I couldn't bear to be in the same room with you.  Frankly, all I wanted was to scream at you."

"Why?" I frowned.

"For being so nice to me. For doing things that I knew I didn't deserve-"

"Oh, God, Sara, you deserve-" I tried to reassure her but she interrupted.

"I failed you and the lab, and you put your job on the line for me.  You could get fired over this." She covered her face with both hands for a moment.  Her words were muffled. "And you were cleaning up after me! God, that was so horrible-" she lowered her hands "I mean, it was so nice but terrible at the same time; I kept wishing that you'd stop being nice and start yelling or-"

"Sara, I did want to yell at you." I confessed, "Believe me, I wanted to shake you and scream at you for putting your life at risk.  But I also wanted to do something nice, since I haven't done anything for you lately.  And if you think you've failed me, then… I'll have to apologize for failing you, too Sara.  I should have known something was going on with you and I didn't."

"You have enough problems." She said, looking down at her hands. 

We remained in silence for a moment until she took a deep breath.

"That morning… I mean, when I had the accident… It was the first time I ever drank in a public place.  Now I realize that I went to a bar because I was trying to recreate the last time I felt really good after having a drink."

"When was that?"

"After I discovered that Hank was engaged." she blushed. "You see, Catherine took me to a bar and we had some drinks and we talked for hours and…it felt good.  I even laughed at myself for crying over him.  It's only now that I realize that it wasn't the drinks that made me feel good.  It was her company and the chance to talk."

"You were drinking since that day?" I asked and winced.  It was one of the questions I had promised not to ask.

"No." she said quietly. "No, I wasn't.  It was more recently that I…" she shrugged and remained silent for a while. Then she seemed angry, "God, what a mess. I'm a mess."

"Sara… I think it's time you give yourself some credit. You could have resisted coming here but you didn't. And you're sticking to the program, right?  That takes guts."

"Oh." She smiled shyly. "I guess.  But I'm…I'm ambivalent about this place, you know? Sometimes I think it's stupid to be here.  And sometimes I can't bear to think that I'll have to leave."  There was a touch of fear in her voice that alarmed me.

"Sara, do you think this place is helping?"

"Yes."  She said quietly. 

Then she explained that she had to go back to finish her macramé bag  ("Yes, Grissom, it's macramé; don't laugh,"); then, after saying that she'd be all right, she hurried down the same path she'd crossed the other times.  The nurse opened the door and let her in.

After that door was closed, I walked down the path that led to an opposite door. 

It was like a prison.

It wasn't until I was at a crime scene that I realized she had not mentioned her parents.

Part 4

**

My eighth visit was my last.

I didn't know that, of course; otherwise I wouldn't have enjoyed so much the drive to the Clinic.   There were always fewer vehicles the closest one got to the Clinic and that gave me a chance think of what to say to Sara and what news to give her; it also gave me a chance to glance at the book I was going to give her that day.  It was difficult to bring anything else.  The staff checked every gift one brought and the rules were:  don't bring anything eatable (fruits could be fermented and turned into alcohol, candy and cookies were fattening); no flowers (they had enough, thank you); nothing that could be used to harm the inmates (sorry, that word is mine, but it applies well); no stuffed animals, no radio sets, in short, nothing that could be used to smuggle drugs or booze…

That day I was going to give her a slim volume of Emily Dickinson's poetry.

While I drove I played a little fantasy game I'd played a couple of times before:  I pretended that I was visiting Sara at a fancy resort in Florida.  In these little games of mine, it was usually Italy but that day it was Florida. Then my fantasy changed a little: I was visiting her because she had just given birth to her first baby.  Why that particular fantasy?  I didn't know, but I was happy, driving and choosing names for the baby:  Sophie… Joseph… Andrea… Andrea Grissom? No, that was a mouthful. Sophie Grissom sounded just right-

Of course I immediately rolled my eyes and told myself to stop it.

All my fantasy games ended as soon as the clinic came into view.  It was a beautiful place; it was elegant; there were fancy plants everywhere and the carpets were thick and expensive, but that didn't matter because too soon you realized that it was like a prison.  You left your ID, keys, and cell phone at the reception, and you knew that there would always be a nurse keeping an eye on you and your friend.

Still, it was the best place she could be in and that was a consolation.

I waited for Sara under the big umbrella, hoping she'd feel better.  The day before she had seemed ok, but two days ago she had been distracted and sullen, even angry.   She hadn't talked much and it was almost at the end of our 50 minutes that she had bitterly told me that her parents had come for a visit.

"They said that everything's fine. That I'm fine." She said, shredding a tissue in tiny pieces while she spoke, "That's all they kept saying-"

"Well, they are showing their confidence in you." I tried to explain but for some reason that angered her.

"Don't you ever get tired of being reasonable, Grissom?" she retorted angrily, "Don't you ever get mad at something or at someone?" she asked and before I answered, she snorted and looked away, muttering "Ha, look who I'm asking!"

She threw away the shredded tissue and covered her face with both hands.

"I can't take this.  I'm trapped, trapped, trapped! And in case you're wondering, no, I'm not fine, I'm angry, I'm supremely pissed off, and I hate this place.  I hate that they cut flowers to brighten the rooms of drunks like me! I hate that all this money is wasted on weak, stupid, useless people who don't deserve it!" she wasn't crying, she was just so angry she could hardly breathe.  I moved my chair and sat beside her.  I tentatively put my arm on her shoulders, 

"Are your parents staying in Vegas?"

"No." she mumbled bitterly, "They say that they trust me to get well, but the truth is they just don't know how to deal with me."

"Do you want them to stay?  I'll talk to them if you want."

"No. No, don't do that." She lowered her hands and looked earnestly at me. "Grissom, you…You'll be there, right?  Even if I don't do well?  I swear I want to do well." She said quickly, "I want to get out and never come back, but if I don't make it, will you help me?"

"Sara, I'll always be there for you." I promised, "No matter what happens."

And she nodded and took a deep breath and she gradually calmed down.

There were times when I questioned Don's treatment, particularly after that visit.  However, the fact that she was looking better gave me a little hope.  Even her outburst had been positive.  She was talking, she was showing her anger, and she was realistic enough to know that staying at the clinic was only a step on her way to recovery, not a miracle cure. 

So that day I was waiting for her, hoping that she'd be feeling ok.  And yes, she looked happier this time.

She smiled widely as she told me about her occupational therapy and the books she'd read, and more importantly…

"I have a job outside since yesterday," she said proudly, "I'm reading children's books at St. Mary School."

"Really?" I was surprised, "They let you go out?" I immediately regretted saying that.  She wasn't a prisoner, for God's sake.  Fortunately she didn't mind.

"It's a form of community service," she explained, "We're sponsored by some ladies from a  Catholic Church.  We do things like reading to the blind or to kids."

Church, kids, those weren't words I associated with Sara, my CSI partner.  She was smiling, knowing very well what I was thinking.

"That's why they needed me to bring a dress, by the way," she smiled. "Next week I'll have a different assignment, though.  I still don't know if it will be more reading or if I'll have to help organize a party for the Senior Citizens Center, whatever that is." She crossed her fingers, "I'm hoping for the reading, of course."

We laughed at that.  She looked at me for a moment and then she patted my hand.

"I want to apologize for my outburst the other day."  I smiled and she added, "I want to thank you for everything you've done, too."

She smiled widely when she noticed that I was blushing.

"You would have done the same for me, Sara"

"Oh, no. I don't have friends in high places like these." She looked around.  Then she gazed at me.  She seemed to be choosing her next words very carefully, "Frankly, if the roles had been reversed, I don't think I would have been able to deal with you being drunk.  I'm so used to you being perfect."

"I am not perfect," I frowned. "You've pointed out my flaws many times, yourself."

"Yeah, I have.  But it's not the same, Grissom.  You'd never do anything as stupid as getting drunk and putting lives in danger.  But you're right, I've pointed out every little flaw I've perceived in you. I've even been angry at you for not acting as I expected you to.  I…" she hesitated, "That's something I wanted to talk about today.  You see, it's kind of embarrassing." She admitted, flushing a little, "It's a discovery I made today.  You see, I'd always seen myself as an independent woman, a feminist, even.  Someone who stands on her own-" she paused.  When she spoke again I thought she was changing the subject.  "My parents...  They, hum, they are these perennial hippies; care free and trusting.  They always let me make my own decisions and they always said I was doing great." She looked down at her hands, "No matter what happened, they simply said that they trusted me, that no matter what, things were all right in the end. I grew up with little supervision and I really  thought that I was taking take care of myself." she gulped. "I did ok until I went away to College.  My self-confidence suffered a big set back, Grissom; I wasn't really prepared to be alone and make my own decisions.  I discovered that things didn't turn out all right in the end.  I didn't know how to relate to people and I found it hard to fit in. I was harsh and not very well liked." She smiled knowingly, "I guess I haven't changed that much." "Sara…" I frowned. I didn't like to hear her put herself down. "You are a-"

"Please, let me…" she interrupted gently.  "Anyway… the years passed… I was insecure but managed to hide it very well.  I had a couple of friends who helped me, I had some others who didn't help much…" she sighed, "Anyway, I studied hard and chose a career; a career that I liked but wasn't sure of until I went to a Seminar and met a charismatic Entomologist, Doctor Gil Grissom…"

"Charismatic?" I frowned.

"Oh, yes. You're very seductive when you're teaching Seminars." She smiled.

We looked at each other and for a moment I was sure we were thinking of the same thing:  Those happy days at the Seminar, our Garden of Eden… 

She lowered her gaze.

"Grissom, these past two days I've been reading book after book of fairy tales…" she said, apparently changing the subject again.. "I never read those when I was a child, but I knew enough of them to reject them for discouraging girls from standing up for themselves.  Well, I read them yesterday and the little kids loved them… Me, I hated the stories at first, but… last night I was thinking about them, and… well," she smiled nervously, "This is embarrassing.  As I told you, I'd always thought I was an independent woman, but now … I've realized that all my life I'd been looking for someone to take care of me. Someone who'd tell me what to do… someone who'd validate what I do and who I am. Someone who'd guide me and like me." She gulped, "You see, these past years I've not been independent and self-sufficient.  All this time I've been depending on you."

"Sara, I don't think so."

"Listen," she said and suddenly she was enthusiastic about this. "I wasn't sure about the career I'd chosen until I met you.  Before that, I thought I'd chosen law enforcement just to piss off my parents.  But once you took me under your wing and approved, I felt more secure in my choice. And not only that; I wasn't just Sara Sidle then, I was Gil Grissom's friend!  Suddenly I was more popular!" she smiled and looked down in embarrassment. Then she looked up at me. "When I got my first job, you were the first person I called, not my friends or my parents. After all, nobody else approved of me working for the PD, but you did; you'd even written a great letter of recommendation.   Later, when I told you I wasn't happy with that job, you helped me find another.  You… you kept solving my problems and fighting my battles.   And when I asked you to call me if there ever was something available in Las Vegas, I simply waited for your call.  I wasn't surprised when you asked me to come. I knew that you'd solve my life again."

There was a moment of silence.  I was too overwhelmed by her words to really analyze them. Still, I tried to say something.

"Sara…" I cleared my throat, "I may have made a few calls to help you, but you are a fine investigator.  That's what got you those jobs, and that's what made me help you in the first place."

She didn't really listen to me; she only wanted to tell me what she had discovered.

"I was happy to work here and to be learning from you…But after the first year, I realized that I wasn't as special to you as I had been when I was far away. Hum…" she looked down, "For instance, I thought I'd work with you all the time... I thought you'd take care of me and you didn't.  And then I was angry with you for not being more sensitive, for not showing your feelings, for not living up to his image of you that I had constructed over the years."  She took my hand and looked into my eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"It's… It's ok." I stammered, still processing her words. "I'm… I'm sorry that I wasn't-"

"I expected you to love me, too." She said candidly and I suddenly felt a stab of pain in my gut. "You see? Just like in a fairy tale, I expected you to love me so I could live happily ever after!" she released my hand, "I kept harassing you -"

"That's not true-" I argued, but she immediately interrupted me.

"Grissom, I touched you, I kept asking you out- That's harassment." she grew serious then, "I was over the line and still you didn't put me in my place.  I misunderstood that.  I thought you loved me and just needed a little encouragement.  I didn't understand that you just couldn't do it; that your life was already settled and you couldn't change it for me."

She was repeating the words I had uttered only a few months ago, after Debbie Marlin's murder… The pain in my gut only deepened and maybe something showed in my face because she briefly put her hand on mine again.

"You couldn't love me the way I wanted you to." She amended kindly, "And it wouldn't have been such a big deal, you know?  If my feelings for you had been like the ones I had for Hank, I would have dealt with rejection more easily.  Instead it shattered me. Suddenly, I felt truly alone.  I wasn't working with you anymore, and… Again, I found myself having to take care of me and not knowing how to do it.  It was hard. I couldn't sleep, and the cases became harder to deal with.  So… I drank to be able to sleep a little; and then I drank to forget that I couldn't deal with my life." She said slowly, "Now I have to face that I was unfair to you.  I said that you were bad for my self-esteem, but the truth is I was expecting you to solve a problem that had started years ago."

"Sara…" I gulped, "You're my friend. You had every right to expect me to care about you-"

"I said one truth at least." She said as if I hadn't spoken, "I gave you my life and you didn't ask for it.  You're just too wise to do that.  I realize that now, Grissom. Now I understand your detachment during your investigations, or why you don't let your feelings take a hold of yourself.  You know very well that there are consequences to every action.  You care about your job and the people you work with, while I was only thinking of me." She took a deep breath, "I should have been more like you all these years."

 "Sara, don't." I closed my eyes, trying to find the right words "Don't ever be like me.  Ever."

"Why not? Did you ever get drunk enough to almost kill yourself and others.?" She asked. "Of course not. You'd never do that."

This was becoming too painful.  What made it worse was the fact that she was detailing all my flaws as if they were qualities

"You feel things, Sara." I argued, "You still open your heart to others, while I don't do that anymore.  I sometimes wish I were more like you."

"Well, that wouldn't be very wise, but thank you." She smiled.  After a moment of silence she spoke softly. "You solved another problem of mine by bringing me here." she squeezed my hand, "I promise you I'll work hard so I don't get in trouble again."

"Sara, I was glad to help…" I mumbled, "I mean, I'm glad that you're getting better. I'd do anything-"

"Thank you." She smiled; a sweet, wide smile that melted me. "I want to ask you a favor now.  A friend's favor." She leant a little closer.

"Sara…" I mumbled, and my heartbeat quickened, because I was going to say IT. "I'll do anything you ask me to."

"Really, Grissom?" she studied my face for a moment. "Thank you.  It means a lot to me, believe me. Could you… could you tell Nick that I'm here?"

I paused.  The stab of pain that I'd felt in my gut was spreading, spreading to my spine and to my head.

I forced myself to speak.

"Why?"

"He'll understand." She said simply.

"…And you think I won't?" I blurted out.

"You've already spent too much time on me."  She said reasonably. "You have other worries, Grissom."

"But I could come…" I started, but something stopped me.  She had asked for Nick and if it had to do with this new understanding of herself, I had to accept it.  I had prayed for her to ask me anything and she just had.  Her own words echoed in my head, Don't you ever get tired of being reasonable? Yes, I got tired sometimes. But I forced myself to be reasonable for her sake.

"I'll tell him." I said softly.  She nodded and patted my hand again.

"Thanks." She smiled, "I appreciate that.  And Gris, listen…I want you to know that I'll never forget what you've done for me."

"Sara, you're my friend.  I'll do any-" I stopped. I'd already said IT and it had blown in my face. "I'm glad you're getting better." I said instead. "I admire you, Sara."

"That means a lot to me." She said and she turned serious. "I want you to know too, that I can stand on my own feet now.  This… it has made me stronger. I've learned a lot about myself and others, and… You don't need to worry anymore."  She smiled, "I'll be all right."

That was her sign that the visit had come to an end. She always said 'I'll be all right' just before going back inside. 

I sat there, expecting her to get up and leave, like she had the other times I had visited.  She didn't.

"So…" I said.

"Take care of yourself." She said smiling.  And still she didn't move. 

I understood then.  She wanted to see me walk down my own path to my own door this time.  I stood up and looked at the long path that I'd have to walk. I didn't think I could do it, not with her looking, but I had to.  I smiled a goodbye and started walking, self-consciously.  Suddenly the path seemed too long and the door seemed to be out of my reach, and the pain in my head was becoming unbearable. But I walked on.  At the last minute, though, I looked back at her.  There were tears rolling down her cheeks but she smiled brightly when she saw me looking back. I was about to walk back when a nurse opened the door and called me.  She was waving my cell phone.

"You have an urgent call, Dr. Grissom."

I didn't take it; I needed to see if Sara was really crying, but when I turned again she was already walking away.

TBC