He unhurriedly wakes to light stabbing at his closed eyelids, beckoning him to open them up. As he reluctantly obeys, he realizes it's the brutal rays of the sun filtering through the half-closed blinds. He feels as if he has just awakened from a fainting spell; his head is pounding and spinning at the same time; his mouth has the iron taste of blood. His body is tingling, and he can't decide whether or not it's a pleasant feeling.

It takes him a few moments to orient himself, but then it all comes back. His nostrils sense the unmistakable sterile smell that can only be categorized as `hospital smell'; the completely white walls that he sometimes thinks can only be found in buildings like this one; the bed with one too many pillows stuffed under his head, his neck a little stiff from the somewhat uncomfortable position.

Suddenly something else invades his senses, and he becomes acutely aware of the fact that someone is holding his hand in a tight grip. He slowly turns his head to find a sleeping strawberry blonde resting her head next to him on the bed, her hair fanning out over his arm, her breath hot against his cool skin. He smiles to himself, letting his gaze drift down to their joined hands, her slender fingers laced through his.

Rolling slightly on the bed, he reaches over with his free hand and gently strokes her golden hair, letting his fingers run through the soft tresses. He can't even count the times he's wanted to do that. An errant strand has fallen over her eyes, and he tenderly brushes it away, allowing his fingers the guilty pleasure of playing with it for the shortest of moments.

He can't believe she's there. When she learned of his surgery, he half expected her to be pissed off and chew him out for not telling her sooner. He wouldn't have blamed her. But she showed him nothing but support and true friendship. He doesn't know why that surprised him. Maybe because he hasn't shown her the best support himself lately; something he regrets every single day, yet doesn't know how to make up for. He will, though, somehow.

Yet she's there, with him.

The sunlight reflects in her hair, putting a beautiful shimmer around her. Not for the first time he wonders if she might be his guardian angel. The thought is strangely comforting to him; that he would have her here on earth, looking out for him even when he thinks he doesn't need it. Part of him already knows it's true.

In their field of work, they're trained to look out for each other. Gathering and interpreting evidence may be their main focus, but they all know the risks of this business. They've all been subjected to them, more than once. He'd like to believe that he would go that extra mile for everyone on his team, but he also knows that he would give his own life for the woman next to him. Sometimes he gets the feeling she would do the same for him, although God only knows why. He sure as hell doesn't feel he's deserved it.

He strokes her rosy cheek in the softest of touches, careful not to disturb her slumber. He knows she probably needs her sleep as much as he does, but the selfish part of him simply has to touch her, to feel her. She looks so peaceful, deep, long breaths escaping between her slightly parted lips, and before he can stop himself, he runs his thumb over them, ever so lightly.

Despite his attempts to keep her in her land of dreams, her eyelids flutter open, and the second her blue eyes meet with his, gratefulness hits him all over again. Gratefulness that she's awake, that she's with him. Gratefulness that she looks at him and smiles.

"Catherine…" Her name is a mere whisper on his lips, and he doesn't even realize that something is wrong until he sees her lips move, and he can't hear her reply.

Panic sets in, and his head starts spinning even more. His chest tightens, and he frees himself from her hand, clutching the sheets next to him as breathing becomes impossible. No, no, no, no, no, no, this is not what was supposed to happen. No, no, no, no, no.

One hand in his, the other on his cheek, and he's brought back to her. At her calming touch, his breath slows gradually. He turns his head back to her and opens his eyes to find her still smiling at him. His breathing is still labored, and she gently brushes his cheek with her fingers, slowly washing his fears away.

"Gil," she mouths, although he's certain she's saying it out loud, too. "Gil, you'll be fine."

She releases her hold on his hand, and as the other one leaves its place against his cheek, he immediately misses it, still feeling its warmth against his damp skin.

"You'll be fine," she signs. "Your doctor told me it's due to the swelling caused by the surgery. He thought this might happen. I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

He did tell him, he just panicked before he allowed himself to remember that he did. Gil Grissom, who went into surgery pretending to be completely fearless, obviously just proved that he's not as unafraid as he pretended to be.

She smiles reassuringly, as if she can read his mind, and finishes, "You'll be fine soon."

His breathing slows down considerably, as does his rapid heartbeats, and his head falls back to rest against the pillows. Then he realizes something, and his head shoots back up.

"You speak sign?" he says. At least he thinks he said it out loud. One thing he's certain of is that he looks as amazed as he feels.

She nods with a small shrug of her shoulders. "A little."

"I didn't know."

"You never asked," is her simple reply.

He leans back again, still watching her. It's true. He never asked her a lot of things. So he decides to start now.

"Why?"

"Why what?" She looks confused at his question.

"Why do you know sign?"

A secretive smile slowly spreads over her face. "You never know when it might come in handy." He can tell by the look on her face that those words are all she'll give him right now, so he lets her leave it at that, determined to get more out of her when she's ready to tell him.

She's still wearing the same clothes as the last time he saw her, and something else hits him.

"You didn't go home?" The thought that she might have been here the entire time he was in surgery makes his heart swell.

"I called Lindsey and told her what was going on," she signs. "She understood. In fact, she told me to, and I quote, nurse you back to health." She laughs at her daughter's words, and he finds himself desperately wishing he could hear it.

The laughter ends and a small smile remains on her face, but he can still see a certain amount of sadness in her eyes, and he knows something else is wrong. Knowing where she was heading before his surgery, but never getting the chance to ask her about the meeting before he went in, he can only presume what's on her mind. At her response as he asks her, he's guessing he's on the right track.

"Catherine… what happened with Sam?"

She closes her eyes briefly, and he sees her features tense noticeably as she fights to hold it all back. When they open again, they're glowing with unshed tears, and his heart constricts for her. He wishes he knew how to take all that pain away. Still, all she gives him is, "We'll talk about it later," and when she blesses him with one of her radiant smiles once again, he feels like the whole world can wait until later.

He relaxes against the pillows, and exhaustion washes over him. He knows it's because the sedatives are still in his body, but he fights to stay awake, their gazes still locked. There are so many things he wants to tell her, to talk to her about, but he wants to be here completely when he does, and so he settles for simply watching her.

He lets his eyes travel across her features, and her beauty stuns him, inner as well as physical. Her hair, and the way it bends in just underneath her chin, framing her face perfectly. Her eyes, the windows to her soul, which have the bluest of colors he's ever seen. He has seen almost every emotion in those eyes. Anger and joy, fear and happiness, determination and insecurity. Hate and love. Her nose, and the way she sometimes scrunches it up. Her lips, so full and inviting. The light freckles, so often covered by her flawless make-up, but which he longs to learn every single position of.

"What…?" She blushes slightly under his scrutiny. Raising a hand to her face, she then signs, "Do I have something on my face?"

He smiles at her. "No," he says, and never averting his eyes, he continues, "You're just… beautiful." He can't believe how much easier that came out now that he can't hear himself say it. Judging by her reaction, he wishes he had, though.

The blush creeps higher on her face, and she bites her lip and averts her eyes for a split second before meeting his gaze again. "Thank you," she mouths to his deaf ears, and he winks at her, suddenly afraid to do anything else. The way she keeps smiling at him, though, somewhat assures him that he's not completely off- base here.

"Come here…" He motions for her to join him on the bed, feeling brave once again. She hesitates slightly, and he continues, "I had ear surgery, Catherine, not a heart transplant."

He can feel her light chuckle as she lies down on his chest, not feeling her body fully relax until his arms encircle her small body, holding her close to him. One of her hands lightly grazes his side while the other rests over his heart, drawing small patterns on his hospital gown. A small shiver runs through his body at her touch, and he dares place a kiss at the top of her head. He doesn't know if it's his imagination playing tricks on him or not, but he thinks she just pressed her lips against his chest in return, and the hand at his side grabs at him just a little tighter.

Suddenly sound comes blaring through; the beeping of the hospital machines; the sound of people walking in the corridors; the two nurses standing outside of his room, talking in hushed voices.

But then all he hears are the four words uttered by the beauty resting against his chest. She leans her face into him, inhaling deeply, and then it comes.

"I love you, Gil…"

His heart just stopped. Or at least that's what it feels like. She can't possibly know he heard her say it, but he hopes more than anything that he didn't just imagine it. He cradles her slender form even tighter and then sighs into her hair, "Say it again," half afraid that she will take it back, that she'll get up and run as far away from him as she possibly can.

This time he can positively feel her smile against him before she turns in his arms, scooting up until she's covering him like a human blanket, hovering close above him.

"Say what again, Mr. Grissom?" she murmurs, grinning from ear to ear. She is close enough for their breaths to mingle, and his throat feels strangely dry.

"That's not what you said," he dares her, staying completely still underneath her.

"How would you know?" she teases. "I thought you couldn't hear at the moment."

"Stop teasing." If Gil Grissom begged, that would be what he just did.

She grabs his hands from behind her, placing them on each side of his head, her palms flat against his larger ones. He watches her as her eyes travel from one of her hands across to the other, her fingers moving in light caresses over his, and he threads his fingers through hers.

It brings her eyes back to his, and they're a deeper blue than he's ever seen them. Slightly clouded over, he's once again struck by the fact that he can see every single one of her emotions in them. He only hopes she can see the very same ones mirrored in his own.

Her lips only mere millimeters away from his, she finally grants him his wish. "I love you," she speaks with a smile, loud and clear, and this time he knows he didn't imagine it.

He can't help himself. "Say it again."

And this time she tells him in actions that speak much louder than any words ever could.

FINIS