Room 146

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

*She notices his door was cracked open. Forgoing her normal politeness, she enters without announcing her presence.*

*She sees him curled up on the couch, misery on his face, even in sleep. A bucket is on the floor next to him.*

*Unable to stifle the urge, she gently strokes a hand down one side of his face.*

Comments

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He opens her eyes at her touch - they're slightly unfocused and it takes him a moment to look her in the eyes. Licking his lips as if his entire mouth is dry, he whispers, "Hey."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

Hey. How're you doing? *While speaking, she fetches him a bottle of water.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He takes the bottle of water and puts it at his side as he sits up with some strain, making room for her to sit next to him, murmuring his thanks. "Could be worse," he hedges, laying his head back slightly to stem his nausea.

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

I'll bet. *A slight sigh--she hates seeing him in pain.* How is your arm?

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He's slowly catching on that she'd always rather know the truth than be protected. Slowly.

"It hurts," he admits. "It's cold; I didn't realize quite how cold one limb can feel without going numb."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

We should wrap it, then. *A slight smile and she takes out the appropriate supplies.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He nods, going to roll up his sleeve with the shaky fingers of his unaffected hand. The fabric keeps bunching up on him so that he can't roll it over properly, and he grows visibly frustrated. "I should change. I didn't think to wear short sleeves, which was foolish. I'll be right back."

He stands up slowly, starting to walk toward a closed door that must lead to his bedroom, when he stumbles slightly.

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

Hey, take it easy! *She's by his side in a flash, looping his other arm around her shoulders. She helps him into his bedroom, settling him down on the bed.*

*Digging in his closet, she pulls out a short sleeved polo.* Let me help you change.

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

As she helps him walk, he mumbles, "The fatigue should be worse at the beginning and the end of the treatment cycles. I'll learn to adapt." Whether he is reassuring her, or himself, he really couldn't say.

He sits on the bed. His face is still quite pale, but there is a slight pink visible on his cheekbones, from the exertion and the embarassment of having Sara see him like this. He sighs as he watches her go to his closet, digging around as if she had done it a thousand times before. It doesn't cause the level of anxiety he thought it would, but it makes him inexplicably sad.

He's broken out of his reverie by her words. His eyes pop open slightly, and his voice is low and rough. "No, Sara, you don't have to... I'm sure I can figure it out," he replies lamely.

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

Denying me the chance to see you shirtless? *Lightly teasing--there is a serious note underlying the words.* It's not a trouble--Gil. *Said firmly, almost naturally.*

Will you let me help you? *She is asking about more than just the current situation.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

Feeling quite ill, he almost doesn't notice her use of his first name. He considers questioning her about it, but refrains. Maybe if he doesn't turn it into an issue she'll feel more comfortable using it.

He just nods in reply to her question, putting his arms to the side so she can help him with the buttons. He's not as mortified as he would expect to be, her tone putting him somewhat at ease, but he keeps his eyes from hers, unwilling to see her reaction to this process.

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

*Her hands are gentle, quick, and efficient. Gently easy the button down off, she lays it aside, helping him with the polo. Flinching with each wince, hoping that she isn't adding unnecessary pain, she manages to get the garment on.* There--that should make things easier. Hang on a sec and I'll bring what I need back here.

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

"Okay."

He remains sitting on the edge of the bed, and kicks a small garbage can next to his feet just in case.

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

*She returns with appropriate bandaging and the forgotten bottle of water.*

You really should drink something--at least a little. Dehydration will only contribute to misery.

*While speaking, she begins the wrapping process.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He takes a small sip, mostly to appease her, as the compresses immediately begin to help the affected area. He gives her a soft smile, "That helps. Thank you."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

It seems the doctors know what they're talking about after all. *A slight smile as she continues working.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He seems a little sad when he replies, "Yes, Dr. Wilson is an expert in his field. He told me of all the possible complications I could expect."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

So far, things seem to be going well. If complications develop, we will deal with them. *Said firmly--he isn't going to frighten her away. And he should know that.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He coughs. "Yes, well, I have a few more months of this. Sara, it could get worse from here. I just need to you to know that I don't expect you to help me like this, all the time. I'n not your boss anymore, you don't need to feel... obligated."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

No, you aren't my boss. You're my friend. And...despite everything that happened before, I'm standing by you. I won't let you go through this alone.

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

"Sara," he begins, and then stops. God, he feels sick. And tired. And weak. And he knows he needs her and it scares that hell out of him. "I don't know how to...

I'm a solitary person. I didn't have a best friend growing up. I never had a college roommate. I don't have drinking buddies, poker buddies, siblings... I don't know how to not be alone."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

*The trashcan is picked up and handed over without comment to that effect.*

Best way to learn is to simply do it. I'm not much of a social butterfly myself, Gil. *Again, using his name. Not allowing even that barrier.* For me, a normal interaction still consists of donning latex gloves and peering over a body.

Please. I want to be here. And I'm going to be here.

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He smiles weakly. "You have proven useful so far. I guess I should keep you around for now," he says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood just as he starts to dry heave. He almost wants to laugh at the timing as he hovers over his trashcan.

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

That's me, useful and decorative. *She rubs the back of his neck soothingly, not moving away.* There, take it easy, let it pass...

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He tries to slow his breathing, knowing that how ill he feels is probably due to the fact he's still been pushing to attend all his classes and running down his body after his surgery before going in for his treatment. Trying to concentrate on something else, he attempts to isolate the sensation of Sara's hand warming the skin of his neck and upper back in his mind.

He breathes through his nose for a few minutes, and then sighs. "I e-mailed everyone back in Vegas to let them know what's going on. Greg says hello, but I'm sure you speak to him more often than I do anyway."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

*She nods.* We talk fairly often. Nicky and Warrick call on occasion. And I had a furious voicemail from Catherine demanding to know why I hadn't told her about this before. *A slight laugh.* Good to know some things haven't changed...

*She continues rubbing his neck.*

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He sounds vaguely annoyed. "I told her specifically not to hold you accountable for not notifying them. She knows better than that."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

I'm easy to blame. *She shrugs.* Doesn't really matter--she'll believe what she wants, regardless of what might be the truth.

*Subject change time.* Feeling any better?

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

He allows her to change the subject for now, making a mental note to call Catherine later. He knows Catherine tends to lash out and become possessive when she's upset, but now is not the time.

"I am. Still tired," he admits. "I should probably try to get some sleep. I haven't slept much this week. You don't have to go, if you don't want to," he says, coming as close to saying that he's afraid he might need her still as he can. "I'm going to go lie down on the couch. I have a TV in here, the remote is on the nightstand. There's food too," he offers sheepishly. "Or whatever you'd like to do, is fine. You don't have to stay."

[equalsmcsquared.livejournal.com]

I'll stay. *A slight grin.* They're showing new Forensics Files tonight--want to spot the errors?

[ooc: Wrap all right? Being kidnapped. :)]

[drgrissom.livejournal.com]

"Sure," he smiles, relieved. Slowly, he pulls himself up to the headboard and rearranges the pillows to rest the long way, and then scoots up to sit. He gestures for Sara to join him and turns the TV on. They begin to watch the program, trading easy jokes about the case on the program until Grissom falls asleep during a commercial break.