Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. It does my heart good. I'm so glad you like this. Just remember my A/N at the beginning - angst, angst, angst. It gets started here.
Note: Memories are in italics
Chapter 2 - Waiting
Grissom hurt.
His head hurt - his eyes hurt - his back hurt from the tension that held him rigid. His leg bounced as nerves got the better of him and he forced himself to count the pock marks in the ceiling tile for the fourth time. When that was done he prowled the waiting room examining the wall hangings three separate times then dissected the paintings by counting each brush stroke until he thought he'd go insane, settling in next to the aquarium to count air bubbles in hopes of lowering his raging blood pressure before moving to his feet again.
They'd arrived at the hospital 20 minutes after Brass had come for him and headed straight to the ER only to find Sara had been rushed into surgery. Social Services provided little or no information to his myriad of questions except that there had been a car accident and Sara had been brought in with another woman.
As each of his questions were met with an "I'm sorry, that's all the information I have", the fist that seemed to have grabbed hold of his heart clutched even tighter causing him to hyperventilate. A paper bag appeared and after blowing into it for a good ten minutes, his breathing was good enough for Brass to take him up to the surgical ward keeping a firm grip on his arm the whole way. After depositing him in the waiting room, Brass disappeared to find answers and inform the team of Sara's accident.
That had been a good hour and a half ago and after three cups of half drunk stale coffee and leaping to his feet every time a person in scrubs appeared, Grissom found himself once again next to the aquarium staring at the fish swimming back and forth. The repetitive sound of the air filter began to penetrate his overtaxed brain and he found himself thinking of a day, not too long ago, when both he and Sara found themselves at the Shark Reef Aquarium at Mandalay Bay – her hand softly rubbing his back; her head laying on his shoulder.
"It must be nice to just swim around all day long and sun yourself on a rock," she said as his arm snuck around her waist.
"And wait for the great big fish to eat you." He felt her chuckle.
"You just ruined a pleasant scene."
He smiled. "Well, instead of being one of those little fish let's be sharks. All they do is eat, sleep and make little sharks and no one bothers them."
"Except us."
"Except us," he nodded. "But think of what we'd have. The big wide open ocean to explore. Just the two of us. We'd be able to take our time to investigate all the ins and outs of the ocean without anyone bothering us. It all seems very . . . restful." His tone was wistful and he felt her eyes on him and turned. "What?"
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He continued to look at her then gave her a peck on the lips. "I'm just tired." She frowned. "Too many doubles and triples."
"Amen to that," she answered with a sigh. "But soon we will be going to California to visit your mom and we can sit at the beach all day long and not worry about a thing except what kind of ice cream we'll have each night."
He smiled at that. "And whether or not we sleep 'til noon."
"Or get out of bed at all," she said with a waggle of her brows.
His eyes sparkled at the thought and so did hers. He couldn't begin to express to her how much he loved her so kissed her instead then hugged her to him, never wanting to let her go.
Grissom blinked when a clown fish smacked the aquarium glass pulling his focus from the memory. That had only been last week. Their trip was scheduled for next week.
How could their lives change so much in seven days?
"Excuse me," came a soft voice from behind making him jump then turn, eyes alighting on an unfamiliar woman with puffy red eyes and a Kleenex clutched in her hand.
"Yes?" he said rising to his feet.
"I'm Daphne Gilman. Marcie is my daughter," she began while he frowned, his mind trying to figure out why she would be telling him this. "Are you Sara's Gil?"
His brow cleared and he stood a bit straighter. "I am." Nerves attacked him.
"My husband, Ben, and I are sitting over there," she pointed behind her, "awaiting word. I wasn't sure it was you or I would've come over earlier," she explained.
He looked closely at her, could see the same fear he felt, but didn't understand why she was here.
"I'm sorry," he began confusion clear on his face, "but what does Marcie . . . Is Marcie here, too?"
Daphne frowned then looked shocked. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you knew."
"Knew what?" There was that fist again.
"Marcie was in the car with Sara. She was dropping her off at work."
Grissom clutched at her arms. "Did you see Sara? How badly was she hurt? Did she say anything?"
"No, no I didn't see her."
Daphne cringed at the look on his face. The hope that had flickered briefly was gone and he let her go, leaning dejectedly against the wall. She placed a hand on his arm.
"I'm sure she'll be fine. They have very good doctors here." All he could do was nod. "If you'd like to sit with us we're just over there," she pointed, weary eyes looking up at her.
He knew he wasn't the best company at present but didn't really want to be alone and these people at least knew Sara. He gave her another nod and she smiled. Gathering up his jacket, he slowly followed Daphne seeing a tall man rising from his chair ahead of them.
"This is my husband, Ben," Daphne introduced as Grissom took his outstretched hands.
"Gil Grissom."
"I've heard a lot about you from Marcie," Ben said with a slight smile.
"Probably all bad," he answered taking a seat next to Daphne.
"On the contrary," Ben said as he, too, sat. "She told me she hopes to find a man just like you one day to whisk her off her feet and make her deliriously happy just like Sara."
A surprised look crossed Grissom's face, then he blushed and looked away. Running a hand over trembling lips he basked for a moment in those words. Sara was deliriously happy.
So was he.
"I hope the same," was all he could say as he sucked in a breath and pondered the design in the carpet.
"Your Sara and our Marcie really enjoy each other's company," Daphne said to fill the quiet space.
Grissom nodded. "Sara tells me she's a good student."
"Straight A's," Ben said with pride.
"She also enjoyed the lecture you gave at UNLV last year," Daphne added. "Said it opened her eyes to bugs. She has her own tarantula now," she said with a shiver.
"Herbie," Ben interjected.
Daphne nodded. "She loves him to death. She even calls to check on him when she's going to be late. That's why I was worried today when she . . . ."
Her voice trailed off when she realized what she was about to say and shared a glance with her husband taking his offered hand. Grissom watched them wanting so to take Sara's hand within his own, to feel that bit of comfort that had gotten him through so many things over the years. He clutched his jacket tighter. The air seemed to be getting warmer and grabbing at his breath.
"Ah, excuse me for a moment," he hastily said rising swiftly to his feet. "I'll be . . . I'll be right back."
They nodded after him as he hurried down the corridor behind them coming to a stop in front of a long bank of windows in an open area that overlooked Vegas at dusk. Wrapping arms about himself, he felt a touch of air as it flowed from the vents above and gathered up as much as he could to fill his empty lungs.
"Sara," he whispered.
Her touch, her scent, how her hair felt as it slipped through his fingers battered at his brain. Her skin, so soft, caressing him, rubbing against him was enough to make him lose all awareness. How he coveted that feeling now as he stood here in solitude staring out at the sun as it slowly dipped out of sight turning the sky a rusty orange and sending everything into shadows and darkness as the first stars began to shine.
"Until I met you," Sara began, "I never looked at the stars."
"You're kidding?" he said aghast at her confession.
"Nope. Didn't see the need. They were too far away to touch; they couldn't give me any of the answers to my questions and none of my wishes came true."
He kept quiet looking back at the vast blanket of stars that twinkled above then turned on his side and grasped her hand, waiting for her to look at him.
"My wishes came true," he said looking deeply into her eyes. "Without you there would be no stars for me, no need to linger under them for very long. 'If I could but reach up and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand.'"
He could see her eyes glisten in the moonlight then she was in his arms and he held on tightly.
"I think I have a new hobby – stargazing," she whispered in his ear just before kissing his cheek.
"I love you, Sara, more than you'll ever know."
"I love you more," she whispered into his neck making him smile.
A hand made its way onto his shoulder and he nearly leaped out of his skin, all color leaving his face when he spied a white coat then realized it was Catherine. He stumbled back onto the long bench that ran under the windows, dropping his head into his hands.
"Jesus, Catherine."
"I'm sorry, Gil," she said quickly sitting next to him. "I called your name."
"I-I didn't hear you," he answered.
"It's okay," she said covering his shoulders with her arm, gently rubbing his back.
He shook his head. "No, no it's not. I can't lose her, Catherine. She's my life. What am I going to do if . . ."
"There are no if's, Gil," Catherine sternly gave him. "There are only the smiles you will see when she wakes up to see you there."
"Catherine . . ."
"I don't believe in a lot of things," she confessed, "but I do believe in one thing. Sara will fight the Devil himself to stay here with you. You must believe that, too."
He swallowed repeatedly to press down the lump in his throat. "I pray for it," he admitted. "Every passing second. But the longer it takes . . . "
Catherine remained silent knowing this quiet man next to her was doing his best to hold it together but the fraying edges were becoming visible and it hurt her heart even more.
"The team sends their love. They're still at the scene from this afternoon. Ecklie won't let them leave. Something about a police commissioner's son or something and all hands on deck," she said with a shrug. "I snuck out and Jim told him to stick it . . . or words to that effect." She continued to rub Grissom's back. "They hate the fact that they can't be here with you."
Grissom nodded. On the one hand he was thankful they weren't there. He didn't know how long he could suffer their anguished looks. But on the other, it helped to have those around who knew Sara, who could offer up more hope than he could at, perhaps, the moment she needed it. Power in numbers as it were.
Catherine studied her friend not liking the pallor of his skin or the shaking of his hands as they ran through his hair. She could feel him trembling beneath her touch and she just wanted this to be over for all their sakes but especially his. They'd taken so long to find each other and to have one or the other ripped away so soon wasn't how it was supposed to end. At least she was here. Hearing her name she was pulled from her thoughts to find Brass coming toward them, an uncomfortable look on his face. She kept silent as he sat next to Grissom.
"I haven't been able to find out anything except that Sara's still in surgery," he began. "All my best glares were ignored. These nurses are tough." He gave his friend a bit of a smile that quickly faded when Grissom's only response was to close his eyes. Brass shared a glance with Catherine and decided to continue. "Gil, I just spoke to the doc down in the ER. They brought in the man who caused the accident."
"What did he say?" he asked without raising his head. Brass hesitated and looked away. The silence made Grissom look up and stare at the captain. "What did he say?" he repeated.
Brass cleared his throat then looked directly at Grissom. "He didn't say anything. Apparently, he had a heart attack while driving, lost control of his car and died on route to the hospital."
Catherine gasped and squeezed Grissom tighter when she felt him tense, watching as Brass looked away then placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.
Senseless. It was all so senseless. Sara was in the hospital because she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was possibly fighting for her life because of a heart that died and taken its owner with it. It wasn't something inanimate like a rock or a hole in the street – something that just was. No, it was an organic object attached to a person who'd not had the decency to live long enough to swerve out of the way. And because of that Grissom had no one to vent his anger and frustration on, no one to remind what was taken from him. No one to blame.
No one.
Rubbing his forehead, he shook his head. He couldn't think on that anymore. It was a waste of energy that was sorely needed elsewhere to get her back to him. He could deal with everything else once she was home and safe and back in his arms. Quickly, he stood, feeling Catherine's hand leave his arm.
"Gil?" she said to his back as she rose with him.
"I need to – need to get back," he vaguely said, "in case there's news."
With that he walked away, his gait slow and his eyes staring at the carpet not even aware that his friends followed silently behind, each clutching the other's arms for support.
As he entered the waiting room Grissom spied the Gilman's sitting quietly and made his way toward them, catching Ben's eye as he neared then the shake of his head. No news.
No news is good news.
Not necessarily.
Sitting himself down opposite them, Grissom rested his head on a hand and rubbed at his scalp to work away the headache that was rapidly increasing in size. If he focused on that perhaps he'd be able to ignore the rising tide of emotions that were threatening to overtake him. Nothing would be gained, he knew, if he lost control except to embarrass himself and give Sara something to tease him about. A moment of surprise filled him when he felt the corner of his mouth tug at the thought of her standing in front of him, a slight smirk on her beautiful face, eyes dancing with delight at his discomfort as he'd seen many times before.
"I know what you're doing," he said not even bothering to turn around.
"And how can you be sure if you don't look?" she asked in the playful tone he found quite endearing.
"Let's see," he began continuing to chop vegetables for their salad. "First off you're smirking and your lips are stuck so far out to keep yourself from laughing that a bird could land on them." She giggled at that and he continued. "Second you're leaning, thinking it makes you look nonchalant but, in fact, speaks to the fact that there is nothing nonchalant about the impending teasing I will suffer from for at least a week."
"At least," she admitted. "And third? There's always a third."
He grinned. "And third, I deserve whatever it is that you'll toss my way if for no other reason than to remind me why I try to keep my emotions in check when faced with what I perceive to be stupidity. My own most of the time."
He stopped in mid-chop when her hands came around his waist, her chin propped on his shoulder as she hugged him tightly.
"You are not stupid."
"What would you call it?" he asked still smarting at the result of his loud, loose tongue.
"Excitable? High strung? Impulsive? Reckless?"
"Impulsive? Reckless? I think you're talking about Greg."
She laughed. "Well, maybe you're right. But you can't deny that you're excitable. I've seen you when we go to the butterfly exhibit. You're like a little kid."
"And high strung?"
"Only in a good way like when you chase me through the house after I show off my new lingerie." She grinned against his shoulder and he shrugged.
"Okay, I'll give you that."
"I also think you're passionate, caring, sexy, gorgeous."
He smiled. "Don't stop."
She laughed and kissed his neck. "I will say that you have a wide variety of curses that blew my hair back. I knew a bunch of sailors in Frisco that would blush at what I heard. Who knew an entomologist knew such things."
"You learn many things while hunting for bugs," he answered pulling up one of her hands to kiss its back. "I'm sorry, Sara, if I embarrassed you."
"You surprised me but you didn't embarrass me. It was actually incredibly hot to have you defend my honor even though it was a bit misplaced."
"I think I scared the poor man."
"He did run into the bathroom after you threatened to make him piss out of his ass."
"God," he said with a shake of his head, laying the knife flat on the cutting board, trying to ignore the memory of the abject fear on the man's face.
She let go of him and turned him around, taking his face in her hands.
"You are what every woman wants. A man who will defend her honor whether he's right or not. It's nothing to be ashamed of and I love you all the more for it."
She kissed him then, a light peck, and he pulled her close.
"Of course that doesn't mean I won't be teasing you," she whispered to him.
"For at least a week."
"For a least a week," she repeated as he started to laugh.
Such a pleasant thought flitted away when he felt someone take his hand. Glancing sideways a smiling Catherine came into view and he squeezed back. It wasn't Sara but, at least, it was someone who could give him strength and keep him from going off the deep end.
At least for now.
Okay, there you have Chapter 2. I hope you like it. Please review. It makes me happy! Chapter 3 in 2 days.