A/N: Another little story of fluff (mostly)--we are not into angst right now! Enjoy!
Finding Memories, Chapter 1:
Weeks had passed and Gil Grissom watched as Sara struggled. She was the one who changed to another shift stating she needed more sunlight in her life; the cast came off her arm; she saw a counselor several times; she said she would marry him, and she still struggled. He watched as her smiles grew less frequent. Her sleep was restless and bothered with dreams.
She walked their dog one afternoon, gone so long that he went to find her. She was sitting on a bench, the dog at her feet. When he touched her hand, she looked at him with those dark eyes and quietly said "I love you, Gil—I don't say that enough."
At home she had slowly undressed him, made love to him, and, when she thought he was asleep, she cried. He could no longer pretend that everything was fine. When confronted, she made excuses—new shift, new people, work, adjusting took time.
Even after reading her letter twice, he retraced his steps believing he would find her. When he did not, he got in his vehicle and drove home, a hundred questions whirling in his brain. He pressed the first number on his cell phone and listened to it ring. "Pick up, honey, pick up," he whispered, but all he got was her voice saying to leave a message. He called twice before leaving a message.
Traffic slowed to a crawl as late night tourists and taxi drivers tried to find addresses in the dark. He swore as two cars bumped and drivers jumped out. He flipped on lights, made a u-turn, and circled several blocks to another street. He kept lights flashing as he broke speed limits and took a few turns against traffic lights.
"Please be home" he pleaded. He knew she had not bounced back, he knew she was not sleeping; he knew the shift changed had affected her. He knew things troubled her. He knew she never let go. He knew—a dozen things he should have done.
Her car was there.
"Sara—Sara" he called her name realizing his voice was too harsh, too angry, which he wasn't, only worried. The dog did not greet him, usually a good sign. Hank watched and waited for Sara as a loyal companion. Wherever she was, the dog would be.
He called her name again before he heard the shower, saw a suitcase open on the bed, and found Hank standing sentinel at the bathroom door. Pushing the door open, steam escaped clouding his vision, and for a few seconds, he thought the room was empty until he saw the figure slumped on the floor of the shower.
His first thought was there was only water going down the drain, instantly knowing she would not, could not, do what was his first thought. He turned the water off and reached for a robe at the same time. Kneeling, he wrapped the robe around her and lifted her up. Her body shook as he brought her to her feet. She was almost dead weight but he managed to get her to the bed, toweled her dry, and pulled covers over her. All the while, she cried silent tears. Several times she said his name, choking and sobbing before returning to silence.
He tried to talk, saying her name a dozen times, asking what happened, had he done something. He got no answers, just the silent tears. He pulled her to him wrapping arms around her saying "Talk to me. Let me help. Whatever is wrong, let me help."
Her body trembled as she choked out his name. He kept her against his chest running hands along her back, placing light kisses in her hair.
Minutes stretched into an hour before he realized she no longer cried continuously, but made soft sounds of agitated dreams. She frowned and mumbled a word as he laid her head on the pillow. He kept his hands on her as he covered her up. Hank had quietly stretched out beside her, lifting his questioning eyes when Grissom moved.
His phone blinked with waiting messages, the first from Catherine, another from Brass, Ecklie, Catherine again. He called Catherine.
"What's going on?" she asked.
It took a minute for him to speak. "Catherine, take care of things. I—I need some time."
"Sara?"
"Yeah. She—I need to be with her."
"Gil, what's wrong? We know she left. Ronnie found her vest."
"I don't know. I'll get back to you. Just take care of things."
"You know you can call me—any of us." She waited for him to say something. When he did not, she continued. "Tell her we love her. Tell her you love her." Her voice was a whisper.
"Okay, thanks."
