I'm Sorry That You Love Me- GSR fic

Hello there again, guys! I'm sorry I just totally deserted you at my high time, but I must admit, I was dead. My writing potential was dead. I had no plot! I was so pessimistic that this wouldn't live past Grissom's waking up, if it went that far at all, that I didn't plan for these chapters ahead! But, now I'm working on a plot, and I promise I will not leave you or this fic! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

~Ash
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The Dry-Eyed Funeral - Chapter 18

Three Days Later...

Three sunny days followed Grissom's awakening, glorious, beautiful days. The team continuously visited Grissom, day and night, and they knew quite well his normal self was back. A quite significant amount of times that first day, Grissom would request a different entomology magazine, so Sara, at request of the hospital, raided his offfice and brought a large cardboard box of his entomology books and updates of the latest cases. There was no putting him down. That was until the following day, when Sara came into the room with a sullen face.
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"Hey Grissom." He looked up, unsurprisingly, from yet another one of his books, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He curled his lips, his attempt at a smile, and set his book aside after marking the page with a butterfly bookmark. "Why hello, Sara. What's new?" She slowly rounded his bed and sat down in the side chair, hands limp in her lap, eyes gazing downward. With a complexed look and furrowing of his eyebrows, Grissom reached out a hand and took one of her's comfortingly. "What's wrong dear?" She looked back up at him, tears casting a glassy glow on her face, pure anger eminating from beyond the moisture.

"We're all being required to go to his funeral tomorrow."
"Who's?"
"Ecklie's." She spat his name, venom trickling from each movement her full lips had to make of the horrid name. He sighed, nodding his head in comprehension.
"I presume that includes me, which brings you here." She nodded, tears beginning to fall. He reached out, wincing slightly from the soreness in his abdomen, and smothered her tears with his thumb, bringing her eyes back to his. "Why are you crying? Do you seriously regret what Brass did?" He whispered, knowing that wasn't it, but needed to find some way to break it from her.
"I just can't believe that after what he did to you and the rest of the team if Jim didn't react, that we still have to attend! He deserved it! You d-died, twice in fact! Just not permanently, thank God. I - I don't know what I'd do if he succeeded, and if he wasn't dead before, we'd still have a funeral to attend. One of us would have gotten to him, and I could only dream I would have gotten to him first." She opened her mouth to say something else but was silenced by the soft tender kiss Grissom interrupted her with.
"But Sara, don't you see? I am fine, he did not win, and you should not say such things, even though we all hated him. And I'm quite sure one of you would have never worked another scene if I had indeed not made it. But don't talk about that, because it didn't happen. There's no reason to have what if's. That is the past, and what we do now affects what our future is." She nodded, and he kissed her forehead lightly again, sitting back in the bed again, the stitches starting to hurt in that leaning position.
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So with that confrontation, the doctor deemed that Grissom was well enough to attend the funeral as long as he stayed in a wheelchair and a nurse went with him, along with the IV. So with great unsatisfaction, Grissom agreed knowing the Sherrif would force him to accept the terms anyway. The following morning, the team carpooled to the hospital, dressed in their black decor. Sara drove his Tahoe alone, leaving room for Grissom in the front passenger's seat and the nurse and folded up wheelchair and small IV stand in the back. Greg and Catherine joined Brass in his car, Catherine driving as Brass was still wearing the sling, and Warrick accompained Nick in the Denali. The only one to go greet Grissom was Sara, the rest waiting in the lot. She saw him being wheeled out already, he most likely saw the caravan of familiar cars. He sat in his suit and black shirt, sitting uncomfortably in the wheelchair as the nurse pushed him. Being indignant as normal, Sara said she was capable of pushing him and the nurse gladly let her continue pushing him to Grissom's Tahoe and helping him in, the rest of the team smiling and Greg, snickering, in happiness of their obvious love.

When Sara pulled up to the church, leading the caravan to a halt, she saw the minefield of reporters crowding the steps, one pointing towards the obviously marked lab vehicles, the mob quickly approaching. Nervously grasping his hand, Sara squeezed and smiled worridly at Grissom as he just gazed straight ahead. "Let's just get this over with." She nodded and hopped out of the Tahoe with the nurse and rounded the vehicle, the team following in pursuit of her. A tsunami of questions flying at her and the team washed over her, but she couldn't be bothered with them, because what they really wanted was her love's answers. As she opened his door, they pressed in closer and she turned. "Hey! Back off! He's still recovering and needs space, so back off!" So they did, and she helped ease him from the seat into the wheelchair, IV hooked on a pole, the nurse pushing him forward, and the team now surrounding him as a barrier. This was the biggest news in Vegas, that an administrator of the Crime Lab had been murdered in a manner of self-defense after he attempted to murder the Graveyard Shift Supervisor and injured a Captain of the force. It was huge.

But they made it into the church in one piece, making their way to the left front row, the right for family. Ecklie's mother was quietly weeping, his father holding his wife, but the mother was the only one throughout the entire service that made such a movement as wiping their eye. Family talked of his accomplishments, and more than once, dispite his inability to move, Grissom had Sara, who sat on the end next to him, smack Warrick and Nick for scowling and whispering words of a crude manner. Despite the circumstances, it was still a funeral. One of the matters they scowled about as they left the church, and Grissom as well, the whole team in fact, was that besides the reporters, not a single soul had approached Grissom about seeing if he was okay or how he felt. With a joking manner, Greg muttered how they wouldn't even have to deal with burial since the family was holding a private burial in his hometown. And in the privacy in their vehicles, they agreed with him. Their nightmare was finally beginning to end.
 
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