A/N: This is the sequel to A Crime Too Far. You don't need to have read the story to read this one, but I guess it would help if you read the first and final two chapters. The rest will become clear as the story unfolds. This is a story of love, healing and rediscovery, a story of hope and determination to succeed against all odds, and I can promise it won't be as bleak or as sad as its predecessor.
As always, reviews, ideas and suggestions are greatly welcomed, cherished and appreciated, and a great source of comfort and encouragement.
Thank you.
All That I Am.
Ignoring the large DOCTOR stencilled in white on the tarmac Catherine screeched her wheels to a halt in the only available spot in the lot and killed the engine. Unbuckling her seatbelt she shifted forward on the seat and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. It had been a long night, another one in a succession of long shifts, and it was showing on her face. Nightshift was down two, and she hadn't had a proper night off in longer than she cared to remember. Not that she was complaining, and she would do her very best to be supportive and hold the fort for Grissom as long as was necessary, both as his right-hand and as his friend.
She let out a long sigh and took a moment to ruffle her hair back into shape and wipe her thumb and index finger over the corners of her mouth before grabbing her purse from the passenger seat which she shouldered while exiting her silver SUV. The heat outside was stifling, and it was barely ten am. She pushed the cuff of her leather jacket back, quickly checking the time wishing that for once she could have clocked off on time.
Beeping her car shut she scanned her eye over the red-bricked low-rise building in front of her, located the visitors' entrance below an expensive sign that read, Torrey Pines Care Centre, part of the Kindred Healthcare network for short and long-term acute rehabilitation, and trotted her way in. She slipped her sunglasses off, threading them through her hair as she pushed through the glass doors into the reception area. Immediately she spotted the security guard in his starched brown uniform standing slightly back from the doors and Grissom leaning with his back to her on the reception counter.
"Hey," she said, joining his side, her arm wrapping around his shoulder affectionately.
Grissom looked up and round from the admission papers he was signing and smiled a small but genuinely glad-to-see-her purse of his lips. The bruising on his nose was all but gone now, the cuts less visible, and yet she couldn't help note that the lines on his face were more pronounced, the circles under his eyes darker, the shadows in his blue gaze sad and lacklustre. His hair, seemingly greyer, needed cutting, as did his beard. It was almost a month since the attack on Sara, and he had aged ten years.
Her smile quivered a little as he studied him; her hand moved to his left arm and she stroked up and down caringly. "I'm so sorry," she said, "I really wanted to be here when you both got here." She let her words trail off with a wide smile, her 'but' remaining unsaid as they both knew the reason for her lateness. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and a pat before awkwardly pulling him into a loose hug mindful of the plaster cast still encasing his right arm.
"It's okay, Cath," he said, pulling away, finding his voice at last, "I appreciate you covering for me like that."
She nodded, waving his comment aside with a smile. "You look good," she enthused, but Grissom's headshake called her up on her lie and she laughed. "The journey went well?" she enquired instead, her brow rising. "Brass said you rode down with her in the ambulance?"
"They made an exception," he said evasively.
"I'll bet," she replied knowingly. "So how is she?"
His face closed off a little, his tone on the weary side as he answered, "She's…doing okay. There isn't much change in her condition really."
"Gil…"
He shook his head at her interruption, adding with forced cheeriness, "The trip down went without complication, and thankfully she slept for most of it." He bent over, wincing in pain as he absently rubbed the back of his left calf. "They're…settling her into her room now. They thought it'd be better if I stayed away." Watching him with concern as he straightened up Catherine nodded her head. "We can go see her in a little while," he finished distractedly, restless eyes scanning the vicinity of the front desk as he spoke.
"The guys wanted to come, you know, welcome her back," she went on to fill the silence that had settled between them, "but I thought it might be too much too soon."
Grissom didn't respond; he just turned away, his face darkening with annoyance as he searched the small crowd around them. He was clearly in pain and becoming restless at the delay and Catherine cast a quick look around the place, looking for somewhere quieter for them to sit while they waited.
"This place is nice," she said warmly, noticing a sitting area a little to the side. And not cheap, her look added.
Grissom's shoulder lifted, his eyes clouding with sadness. "It's not home," he said.
Catherine's smile faltered. "No, it's not." She looked down to the white tiled floor and then back up again, forcing a brightness she was far from feeling. "It's still early days. Think back to two weeks ago and, god, this is…" she took a breath, her smile widening as she searched for the right words.
"A miracle," he finished for her. "I know but…well, it's just…" he blinked and shrugged and looked away uncomfortably.
Catherine took his left hand and the papers he was clutching and led him to the sitting area. Noticing he had trouble keeping up with her she slowed down her pace a fraction as she remembered that he too had suffered terrible injuries at the hands of McKay and her boys. Sighing she perched on the edge of the red couch while Grissom tried to make himself comfortable on the matching armchair across from her. His hand discreetly moved to his left leg, and he winced as he rubbed at it.
"Are you still on painkillers?" she asked forthrightly.
Caught out he looked up with a start, and shook his head. "I stopped. It's okay really, only just a dull ache. I've been on my feet too long, that's all."
Catherine gave him an unconvinced nod of the head. "Have you had breakfast?" she continued, unrelenting. "I'm sure I can find you something here."
"I'm okay. I just want to…" Looking fretful, he glanced back over his shoulder toward the front desk.
"It won't be for much longer," she said appeasingly.
He swivelled back toward her and nodded. She gave him news of Hank, and Lindsey, telling him how much better she was doing in her new school now. She told him about the lab, about some of the more interesting cases, but she could tell he was only half-listening to her. Every now and then he would cast furtive glances over his shoulder and check the front desk.
She stopped talking abruptly, a fact which didn't register with him at all. "Do you want to swap seats?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.
He gave himself a shake of the head, and refocused his attention on her. "Would you?"
"Sure," she laughed, getting to her feet and waiting for him to do the same to take his place. "There, that's better," she cooed. "At least now, you can pretend to be looking at me while I'm rabbiting on when in fact you're checking out the pretty nurses."
Grissom did a double take, his eyes widening with fright. "Oh, I wasn't looking at-"
"Relax, Gil," she cut in pleasantly, "I'm only messing with you."
"Oh," he said giving her a distracted half-smile, his eyes once again flicking briefly toward the front desk.
Catherine heaved a sigh and shook her head. "How are you doing, really?" she asked at last.
He snapped his gaze back to hers, looking at her with puzzlement. "I'm fine."
"Your legs?"
"They wouldn't have discharged me if they weren't okay."
"What about the rest of you?" Catherine tried again. "You've been through a terrible ordeal – both emotionally and physically."
"I'm fine," he cut in impatiently.
Catherine chuckled uneasily. "Generally, that's Sara's retort of choice."
His mouth pursed to the side. "Well, it's not a bad line, and generally it does the trick."
"Not convincingly, no." Shifting forward on her chair she uncrossed her legs and reached for her purse. She pulled out a set of keys and tossed them on the low table separating them. "Listen, Gil," she said, sitting back in the armchair, "I had my cleaning lady clean and tidy your house. It's all ready for you to move back into."
Grissom's brow shot up. He stared at the keys on the table uncertainly as though he wasn't recognising them, then lifted puzzled eyes to her and shook his head. "Thank you. I…" He stopped suddenly, and shrugged. His eyes were telling her all he could never voice out loud, all she needed to know. That he didn't want to return to the townhouse, to Sara's things, to his old life, their old life, without her.
"I want you to come live with me," she said with a soft smile. His eyes lowered to his lap and she sighed. "With Lindsey and me. Lily will be there too, part of the time anyway. We have the space, and we could look after you. We could look after you while you look after Sara." She paused waiting for him to look up to smile and say, "One man and his dog, huh?"
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Does it matter?"
"Why not?" she asked challengingly. "I know you value your independence, and I promise not to act all mother hen with you. You can have your own key and come and go as you please. You can spend as much or as little time at the house as you wish and I won't say a word." His mouth pursed to the side with disbelief at her claim. "But please," she went on earnestly, "let me do this for you. As your friend."
Grissom's mouth opened, ready with his refusal but she raised her hand, silencing him. "I tell you what. I won't take no as an answer. Actually," she shifted forward on the chair and snatched the keys off the table, "I'm confiscating these. I'm keeping them until you tell me you're ready to go back. Until youask for them."
"You're already doing a lot for me Catherine," Grissom said uneasily.
"I'm not taking no," she sing-sang with a growing smile, causing his lips to purse with amusement.
His smile faded suddenly, his eyes veering off to a point beyond her shoulder. Worry filled his features and he pushed up to his feet. "Sara's okay?" he asked nervously.
Catherine turned to look over her shoulder and gathering her purse quickly rose to her feet. Immediately her eyes dropped to the man's ID badge clipped to the breast pocket of his suit jacket pocket. Armani, Catherine remarked with an appraising purse of her mouth as she read his name and title.
The doctor gave them both a wide smile and a vigorous nod of the head in reply to Grissom's original question. "She's absolutely fine, Mr Grissom," he said with a warm smile. "Her transfer went as smoothly as could be expected. She's on minimum oxygen now and off her sedation. She woke up briefly, and asked about you. We told her you'd be in shortly."
Relief washed over Grissom's face and he blew out a long breath. The doctor's gaze flicked to Catherine and she extended her hand warmly. "Dr Williamson. I'm Catherine Willows," she said as they shook hands, "I'm a friend of Grissom and Sara's."
Grissom threw Catherine a grateful look. "I'm…I'm going to be staying with her for the foreseeable future."
Catherine's returning smile was fond and pleasurable and she reached for his hand, squeezing the tip of his fingers warmly.
"Make sure you leave all your contact details with reception," Dr Williamson said, "In case of emergency."
"Of course," Grissom replied gravely. Catherine's hand withdrew from his, and she moved it to pull out the sunglasses slipping from the top of her head.
The doctor swayed on his feet and checked his watch. "I'll check on Sara again myself late afternoon but we don't anticipate any problems. Tomorrow we'll start assessing her needs, and we'll discuss a customised treatment plan. As for now, she needs plenty of rest so keep your visit and the chitchat to a minimum."
"Of course."
"Do you remember which room she's in?"
Grissom looked at the forms in his hand, and then back up to the doctor, nodding. He took a breath. "Her mother and I have signed Sara's care over to you and your team-"
"She's in the best hands," the doctor cut in eagerly, holding Grissom's gaze levelly. Then he paused, hesitating with his next words. "It's going to be a long and arduous journey, Mr Grissom, for both you and Sara. But I'm sure you already realise that." He flashed a reassuring smile. "The steps to a recovery of sorts will be small and slow, but they will be monumental, I can promise you that."
Grissom's answering nod was resolute. "Thank you."
Catherine watched as with a parting smile and a clasp of Grissom's shoulder Dr Williamson turned his back on them.
"He seems friendly enough," she remarked as she watched him stop to talk to a nurse.
Grissom hummed. "Let's hope his reputation's not all hype," he replied, setting off across the vestibule.
Her head shaking in amusement, Catherine took off after him. As an afterthought he made a sharp turn, stopping by the front desk to hand in Sara's admission documents. She couldn't help roll her eyes as he painstakingly made sure the clerk had all his contact numbers and after being handed a key card to gain access to Sara's room they made their way to a corridor that opened off the back of the reception area.
Catherine counted six closed doors on either side of it and then he stopped. There was no sound except for the quiet humming of the air conditioning unit above their heads. No nurses or aides in sight, but Catherine smiled as she noticed the tiny black ball of a security camera in one corner at the opposite end of the corridor. Idly she wondered if security was one of the reasons Grissom had chosen this place.
Noticing his hesitation Catherine put her hand to his shoulder. "I'll wait out here," she said. "Take your time with her, but afterwards I want to take you out for breakfast – or lunch." She flashed him a smile. "But only when you're ready."
After giving the door a quiet knock he inserted the card, heard the tell-tale unlocking sound and lowered the handle. "Come and say hello first, please," he bid quietly, pushing the door open.
Catherine nodded, the pleasure at his offer evident in her face, and followed him inside. The room was in partial darkness, the blinds pulled diffusing the harsh Nevada light. It was nicely decorated, if characterless, but spacious and cool, perfunctory, she summed up with a pang of sadness.
Grissom crossed the room to the bed, immediately taking Sara's hand that was resting atop the cover in his and bringing it to his lips. He closed his eyes and whispered something Catherine didn't catch. She shut the door quietly and made her way to the bed, standing slightly back, feeling superfluous and intrusive as she watched his interaction with her.
Sara was sleeping, looking serene and at peace, long strand of brown hair framing her face ethereally. Gone was the thick bandage around her head that Catherine remembered from the last time she'd seen the younger woman, more than two weeks previously. Gone was the life-support machine pumping air into her lungs, and more importantly maybe, gone was the overwhelming sense of gloom that had permeated all around when Sara's life still hung in the balance.
She was wearing a white hospital gown and Catherine made a mental note to pop to the townhouse to fetch her some clothes and personal effects. Grissom too, she thought with a smile, glad that he'd found it in him to accept her offer to stay with her. His words spoken to the team straight after the attack came back to her, and with a wary glance toward him she blinked back sudden tears.
A deep sadness suddenly filled her as she thought that her life, his life – their lives as a couple had been irremediably changed. Changed, but not cut short. Belatedly she noticed the ring on Sara's finger and she smiled as she remembered Brass's account of the makeshift hospital room wedding and how almost tearful the gruff detective had been on the phone as he regaled her with the details.
She flicked her gaze to Sara's face, hiding her sorrow behind a quivering smile, and cleared her throat. "When's Laura getting here?"
Grissom's eyes snapped open, full of tears, and Catherine turned away finding it increasingly difficult to keep a lid on her own emotion. From the corner of her eye she saw him wipe at his eyes self-consciously and lower Sara's hand from his face.
"Not until tomorrow, I think," he replied at last, turning to make eye contact with her. He smiled, and she realised that the tears he'd just shed weren't tears of sadness but ones of joy now that he was back by Sara's side. "She had a few things to take care off in Reno first."
Catherine nodded, saying, "I'll swing by the townhouse on my way home. Get you and Sara some clothes and stuff."
He nodded his thanks, and refocused his attention on Sara's face. "She should wake soon," he said, "Wait a little longer with me."
"It's okay," she said, all thoughts of shouting him breakfast out of her mind. Her hand moved to his shoulder and she squeezed it. "I ought to go. I'll catch up with Sara tomorrow." She paused, and watched him while he watched Sara. "I'm glad you've agreed to stay with me, Gil, thank you."
He gave her a distracted nod of the head, as though he'd barely registered her words. Her hand lingered on his shoulder a while longer, her eyes flicking from his profile to Sara's face, and she smiled tightly, her head shaking as tears rose prickling the back of her eyes. She lifted on her tiptoes and softly kissed his cheek.
"Don't worry about me," Grissom said as she pulled away. A smile broke across his face. There was love and hope shining in his eyes now, and in his heart, and her tears finally spilling Catherine nodded at him. "She's still here with us; that's all that matters. The rest will take care of itself, I know it."