Author's Notes: This story prompted more "discussion" between me and my beta PhDelicious than any other story we've worked on together. I think we've finally reached a peaceful place about it, enough so that I feel comfortable testing the final draft of the first chapter out. Thanks for reading it, and hopefully letting me know what you think. I also want to thank Mingsmommy for helping with the whole beta discussion process, and being the voice of reason and zen-like tranquility;)
Unconditional
by Kristen Elizabeth
It is much easier to become a father than to be one. -Kent Nerburn
"Claire?"
Upon hearing her name, the young woman turned around to see the face that went with the voice she'd know anywhere. Eyes that matched her own met her stare for a long moment before she looked away.
He wouldn't come to her; she knew that from a lifetime of experience. She shifted her precious load to her other hip and shook her dark hair back. Steeling herself, she started towards the man at the end of the hallway.
"How is she?" she asked without further greeting. "They wouldn't tell me anything on the phone."
"She's in surgery," he replied. "I haven't heard anything since she went in."
A slow breath helped quell the hot wave of her panic. "What happened?"
Beneath his mostly white beard, his Adam's apple bobbed. "She was shot."
"She was shot," she repeated dully. "Shot. She was shot." Her fear manifested in a harsh chuckle. "Where was she?"
"We're not doing this here."
"Where was she?" His silence was enough of an answer. "She was at a scene, right? Right?!"
He sighed. "She loves her job, Claire. Would you take that away from her? I can't. I won't."
The little girl in her arms woke just then. Lifting her head from her mother's shoulder, she blinked her sleepy eyes. "Mommy, where are we?"
"We're at the hospital, baby," Claire told her daughter. "And look who's here."
Ashley looked around until she found him. Her face lit up, and she stretched out her arms for him. "Granpa!"
He was in shock. That was what Claire told herself when her father didn't immediately respond to his four year-old granddaughter. She needed to believe that under other circumstances, he would have taken the child like he loved her. Like he didn't still resent her existence.
As it turned out, he didn't have time for even a delayed reaction. A doctor appeared with a clipboard and a grave expression. "Gil Grissom?"
Her father turned his full attention to the newcomer. "I'm Gil Grissom. Is my wife…is she all right?"
"Well, she came through the surgery. We were able to remove the bullet and repair the damage to her liver. This is all good news."
"But?" her father prompted.
"But…" the doctor reluctantly went on. "The bullet came very close to her spinal cord. The area is too swollen now to gauge any possible long-term effects to her motor skills." He paused. "We just don't know. The next 24 hours are crucial."
Claire shook her head. "Wait. What are you saying?"
"He's saying your mother might not walk again." With a pale, but straight face, her father nodded. "I want to see her."
"She's in recovery right now, but we'll be moving her to the ICU within the hour." He gave them a sympathetic look. "Until then, try to get some rest. Have something to eat." Another pause followed. "Sara will need your strength."
Claire waited until the doctor was long gone before she let herself breathe again. She buried her face in her daughter's shoulder for a second, surrounding herself with the baby powder scent from her recent bath.
When she looked up, she searched her father's face through a film of tears. His own eyes were dry.
She was sad to say she wasn't all that surprised.
"Come on, baby," Claire murmured to Ashley. "Let's go see if we can find some cookies and milk."
"I like cookies," Ashley told her. "Granpa wants cookies, too!"
"Grandpa knows he's welcome." Claire stared at him until he blinked and looked at her. "He always is."
There would have been little use in waiting for an answer. Her father had slipped back into his mind. And she felt ten years old again, needing something from him that he wasn't able to give.
In the cafeteria, she bought her daughter a cookie and a carton of milk, and settled for a cup of oily coffee for herself. She probably could have used a stiff drink, but she hadn't touched liquor since she found out she was pregnant. Alcohol had led to Ashley's conception, and as far as she was concerned, the little girl was the only good thing to ever come from being drunk.
She smelled Catherine Willows before she saw her; there was no mistaking the woman's expensive perfume.
"Hey," the older woman said, breathless as she slipped into an empty chair at the table. "I finally found a parking space. How's your mom?"
She might have been in her sixties, but you wouldn't have known that if you hadn't looked at her driver's license. Time had been good to Catherine. So had a plastic surgeon, although Claire was too polite to ever ask about that for sure. Whether the upkeep was natural or not, Catherine didn't look much older now than she did in Claire's childhood memories.
"She's out of surgery," Claire replied, fighting back tears. "I haven't gotten to see her yet. But they were talking about spinal cord damage…"
"I got a cookie," Ashley announced, proudly holding up her treat.
The smile Catherine gave the child was shaky. "You should be with your dad," she told Claire. "You two shouldn't go through this alone."
"I could be standing right next to him, and I'd still be alone," Claire muttered. "He's doing what he always does, and I'm just…I'm too tired to deal with it."
"What can I say, sweetie? He's your father." The older woman paused. "He loves you…"
"In his own way," she finished. "Yeah. So you've been saying for years."
Catherine gave her a look. "Lose the attitude. Your father loves you, and he needs you, whether he acknowledges it or not."
"He didn't even call me." She bit her quibbling lip. "Greg had to."
"Oh sweetie…"
"He doesn't want me here," Claire flatly stated. "And that's fine. Whatever. I only came because of Mom." She lost control for a second, and a choked sob shook her shoulders. "She can't die. She just can't!"
Catherine put her arm around Claire. "We both know how strong your mother is. Hell, she's put up with your dad's crap for almost three decades now. She's a freaking pillar of fortitude."
"Yeah," Claire had to agree. "I just…I can't make it without her. If she dies, I'll have lost both of my parents."
"You haven't lost your father."
"C'mon." Brushing away tears with her knuckles, Claire shook her head. "We both know he checked out of my life the minute I told him I was going to have a baby."
Catherine sighed. "You were a baby yourself."
"Mommy?" Ashley tugged on her mother's sleeve, interrupting them. "I want another cookie."
"Finish the one you have," Claire told her. "And your milk, too, okay?" She watched with great affection as Ashley put her small hands around the paper carton and tipped it towards her mouth.
She turned back to Catherine. "I wasn't a baby. I was seventeen. And I needed my dad."
"Have you ever told him this?"
"What would be the point? Besides. Mom's tried. If she can't get through to him, no one can."
"You're so much more like him than you realize."
Claire ignored this and concentrated on wiping crumbs from her daughter's mouth. "I know this is a lot to ask, but can you take Ashley home? She's going to get tired soon. And I don't want her to have to see Mom here."
"Of course I will." Catherine pulled the little girl onto her lap and squeezed her tight. "We'll have a girl's night in, won't we, precious?" Resting her chin on top of Ashley's head, she looked at Claire. "I'm taking her on the condition that you go upstairs, find your father, and talk to him. Really talk to him."
"I think if he wanted to talk, he would have sometime in the past four years."
"Claire." The older woman's tone was maternally sharp. "Sara would want you to."
She swallowed heavily. "That's really unfair."
"I don't play fair, sweetie." Catherine stood up, perching Ashley on her hip. "That's why I usually win."
Claire stood up just long enough to give her daughter a kiss. "Be good for Miss Catherine," she told her. "I love you," she whispered as Catherine carried Ashley away with promises of Disney movies and ice cream.
When they were gone, Claire pushed her cold coffee aside and slumped down in her chair. She'd do what had been asked of her, but only out a sense of obligation to the two most important women in her world. One of them had given her life, and now clung to her own in a hospital bed. The other had given her a place to live when she'd shown up on her doorstep, scared and pregnant and too stubborn to go back home.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring into her mug. But eventually she glanced at her watch. More than an hour had passed. Her mother would be in the ICU by now. And wherever her mother was, her father would be, too.
Maybe talking to him would be easier without Ashley in the room as an adorable, but palpable reminder of all the ways in which Claire had let him down.
To Be Continued