Heather wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks, being careful not to smudge her mascara. Her stiletto heels clicked softly as she strode to the front door of her dominion. She pulled the thick oak door open expecting to see a client; But much to her surprise, it was someone she didn't know as a client, but as a personal friend. Someone she had spent the night with several years ago. And someone who had been there just a few weeks earlier, to comfort her after her daughter's death.
Gil Grissom.
"Hi," He softly greeted. The last time he had seen her, she had just finished crying; Now, seeing the drying moisture on her face, it was a very familiar sight.
"Come in." Heather opened the door wider to allow him room to enter. "If you'll just wait in the sitting room, I'll be right out."
Gil walked into the house and continued into the living room. He marveled at the surroundings. Crimson velvet couches, cream colored walls, shining hardwood floors. Like the other rooms of the huge house, this one was beautifully decorated and it was impossible not to see that.
Heather closed the door with a quiet sigh. She was glad Gil had shown up on this particular day, but he couldn't have had worse timing. Had he arrived an hour earlier or later, it would have been perfect. And she was about to be proven right.
Loud, angry footsteps echoed down the man stairway, making the dominatrix stand up straighter in slight fear.
A man came into view; Tall, sandy blonde hair, with a smug grin upon his face. Gil glanced at him briefly, then stared down at the hardwood floor, not wanting to seem like his presence was invading their conversation.
The man descended down the stairs, stopping in front of Heather. They spoke quietly for a few moments, whispering back and forth. Suddenly, they weren't whispering anymore.
"You didn't protect her!" The man yelled, his voice deep. "You are her mother and you didn't protect her!"
"Zoe wasn't even speaking to me," Heather replied quietly. She seemed scared, intimidated, by the man before her.
Gil raised his head to look at the two; The man was Zoe's father. As this clicked in his mind, he watched the interaction for a moment longer. Just as he was about to look away, the man raised his right hand and slapped Heather across the face. The force behind the strike made her head turn to the left; She kept it turned away from Zoe's father, her cheek throbbing with pain.
Gil leapt up from the couch, ready to kill the man.
"Excuse me," He began. "I really think you should leave." He stood in the doorway of the living room, anger very evident by his body language and eyes.
"And who the hell are you?" The man focused his attention on Gil.
"That's not important. Now, apologize to her and leave," Gil retorted.
"Oh, so you have a boyfriend," He clenched his jaw at the word. "And you let our daughter die."
"I told you, Zoe wasn't even—" She started, but was interrupted when the man delivered a much harder blow, with the back of his hand, to the same side of her face.
Heather, the normally strong one, fell to her knees in pain, her hands covering her face.
Gil rushed forward, pinning the man against the wall behind them.
"Leave now," Gil hissed, "Before I do something we'll both regret."
He released the man from his grip and watched, awaiting his next move.
The man walked toward the door, scoffing as he passed Heather. Once he was gone, Gil was at the injured woman's side.
"Are you okay?" He asked, placing his hand on her back. She cringed at his touch, so he pulled back. "Let me see," Gil whispered.
Heather removed her hands from her face, but kept her head down. Gil very gently lifted her chin with his hand. Looking over her face, he saw left cheek was red, the imprint of a hand already visible in a shade of purple.
"Don't touch it, I'm fine," Heather softly replied as she jerked out of his grasp.
Gil studied her for a moment. She wasn't crying, but her eyes gave away that she was ready to.
"I'll get you some ice," He offered, standing up as the words left his lips.
"It's okay. I'll get it."
Heather got to her feet, stumbling slightly, and strode off to the kitchen to find something cold to put on her cheek. In the kitchen, she sighed quietly. Opening the freezer door, she was greeted by a small gust of the frosty air.
"Ow," She quietly gasped as she pressed the ice pack into her cheek. She glanced up at the door; After making sure that Gil was not standing there, she let her silent tears fall.
Several minutes passed before Heather was able to compose herself. Ice still held firmly against her cheek, she walked out of the room to find Gil. She needed to talk to someone, anyone; And knew that he would be willing to listen.
"He's always been that way," Heather whispered.
She was sitting on the large plush couch in the living room, her knees tucked under her. The black skirt she was wearing spread out around her, the ice pack lying on a coaster on the table next to the couch. Gil sat in the chair across from her, being there to listen to whatever she had to say. And to comfort her when she needed it.
"When I found out I was pregnant with Zoe and I told him, he broke my wrist and gave me a black eye," Heather continued slowly. "His temper is always getting him into trouble."
Gil noted that not once has she referred to the man by name. "You didn't press charges?"
Heather shook her head.
"At the time, I still loved him. And he had excuses why. I was young, impressionable and pregnant, with no where else to turn. I would have been out on the street if he had gone to jail," She said with a quiet, humorless chuckle. "I suppose I really didn't have a choice. Not one I could have easily made, anyway."
Gil moved from the chair to sit next to her on the couch. He rested his hand upon hers for a moment. Glancing up at him, Heather could tell from the look in his eyes that he did care.
"He always treated me like shit. When Zoe was six, he got angry at me because she wasn't home on time from school one day. He beat so severely that I had to stay in the hospital for a week."
It broke Gil's heart to hear that she had been through such things.
"I'm so sorry to hear that," He whispered. He paused, soothingly stroking her arm. "How's your cheek?"
Heather turned her head toward him, revealing the bruised purple skin.
"Ouch," Gil inhaled sharply at the sight.
"This is nothing compared to some of my previous injuries."
She turned away, looking down at the floor. "Why are you here? Not that I mind. Things would have been so much worse if you hadn't been here to stop him…"
Gil let his hand drop from her arm. "I'm glad I was here to stop him before he hurt you any further. And I'm here because I wanted to check on you."
Heather bit her bottom lip. "Mind if I ask why?"
Again, Gil gently rested his hand upon hers.
"The last time I saw you, you were a wreck. I was worried about you."
Heather closed her eyes, recalling the prior three weeks. She remembered telling Gil to leave, that she didn't need any of his help. She had been horrible to him, after everything he had done for her, and she had expected to never see him again.
Gil could tell she was remembering the day that had happened by the way she sighed.
"Hey," He stood up from the couch and knelt before her, now at eye level with the battered woman. "Don't worry about anything you said. You were distraught and hurt. I understand."
Heather nodded, unsure whether or not he meant those words, but she hoped he did. Moments later, her tears fell, accompanied by soft sobs. As he had earlier, Gil comforted her. Wrapping his arms around her slender form. Stroking her back, he knew she wasn't any better than she had been three weeks ago. He also knew that her abusive ex showing up hadn't made anything better.
"It's okay," Gil whispered. "No one's going to hurt you as long as I'm here."
Over her sobs, Heather heard his very gentle statement. And as she suddenly fell asleep in his protective arms, she knew that he meant every word.