Chapter Two
"Baby?" asked Grissom.
"He's too premature. We're giving him drugs to try to mature his lungs…he needs time. Sara is trying to give him that but her injuries may require emergency surgery and she's refusing. You could make those decisions…I'm not sure how long she's going to be conscious."
He felt the room spinning and Brass pulled him down to the nearest chair.
"What are their chances?"
The physician glanced at Brass and then Grissom.
"Sara's chances are good if we go in now…if we wait, it could go either way."
He felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut.
"The baby?" he managed to get out.
"The baby has a forty percent chance of survival…every hour that goes by increases that survival rate."
"How much?" he asked.
"If we can delay the delivery for a few more hours, the odds would increase to fifty percent. Another day might increase the odds to fifty to sixty percent."
He didn't like the odds.
"Can Sara wait that long?"
"Mr. Grissom it's my opinion that if we wait, we will most likely lose your wife and the baby might not make it any way."
He swallowed hard.
He hated the odds.
"I'll talk with her," he replied.
"I'll arrange it," said the physician.
Brass grabbed his arm.
"She doesn't know I called you. She's going to be pissed."
"How long have you known about this?" he asked.
"A couple of months," muttered Brass.
Grissom cursed. "You should have told me!"
"Look, I've been keeping an eye on her. That's a hell of a lot more than you've done."
"I didn't leave…she did. She left twice."
"She left Vegas…not you."
It was an old argument.
"How did this happen?"
"Drunk driver ran the stop light," said Brass.
A nurse appeared.
"Mr. Grissom?"
"Yes?"
"Will you follow me?"
Grissom disappeared down the hall. He waited for a moment before entering the room. She was asleep when he entered. He was thankful. It gave him a moment to sit and look at her. He had missed her with every breath and just sitting beside her brought back all the heartache. It had been a bitter ending. It really wasn't even an ending. She had left and he had let her.
His hand found hers and he pulled it to his lips.
Her eyes opened and they looked at one another.
"Hey," he whispered.
"He shouldn't have called," she moaned.
"Yes, he should have," he said.
She pulled her hand away and for a brief moment she saw hurt and anger behind his eyes.
"Sara, I spoke with the physicians. You need surgery."
"Not yet," she said.
"You can't wait."
"Yes, I can and I will," she said.
"The odds…"
"I'm not having surgery until his lungs are fully developed. The medication is helping…he just needs time," she grimaced. "I'm giving him that."
"You may not have the time to give," he warned.
"He comes first," she insisted.
"You sound like a Catholic," he grieved.
"I don't care what I sound like. He comes first," she repeated.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked suddenly.
"I'm not discussing this with you now. I don't even want you here!" she spat.
It hurt like hell.
The pain seemed never ending when it came to Sara.
He started to strike back like he had done so many times in the past but he stopped himself.
She was right.
It was not the time.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset," he sighed.
"You didn't. I don't care what you say anymore. I got over you months ago."
He flinched as she gripped the bed.
"Are you okay? Do I need to get someone?" he asked suddenly.
She shook her head.
"Contraction?" he asked fearfully.
"No."
She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the baby monitor.
Strong and steady…
That's my boy…
Just breathe in and out…
A few more hours …
Not yet…
We can make it…
She gripped the bed once more.
"Is the pain getting worse?"
"Go back to Heather," she gritted between bouts of pain. "Go back to her."
"You never trusted me with her," he said.
"Should I?" she asked.
He said nothing and it was his silence that shattered what little hope she held out that he had not been unfaithful.
"Go away Grissom," she seethed.
"That's your name also," he said quietly.
"You can have it back," she grieved.
"I don't want it back," he said. "I don't give something and take it back…you do that."
She glared at him and for the life of him he had no idea why he was trying to start a fight when Sara's life hung in the balance.
He could not even wrap his brain around the idea of a baby…their baby…that might not survive.
It was too much.
The past year had been too much.
She closed her eyes and focused on the calming techniques she had learned over the last few months.
"Did you ever trust me with Heather?" he asked.
"I trusted you with my life, my heart and soul when I married you," she cried.
Her eyes shot open.
"I didn't leave you Gil. I left this," she said.
He wasn't sure what she meant.
"I'm tired of death. I've lived with it all my life and now I guess I'm not running anymore," she said barely above a whisper.
Memories of Adam Trent holding the make shift knife against her neck came crashing back. It no sooner passed then flashes of Natalie in the interrogation room appeared. He could almost hear his pleas for her to tell him where Sara was. It was followed by the sheer terror he felt when he saw the partial body in the desert as he dug with his own bare hands not caring about contamination of a precious crime scene. The last image still haunted him in his dreams. He remembered seeing her lifeless body as they struggled to save her. Warrick proved to them just how precious life was and yet they had let life separate them.
"I'm not ready to say goodbye," he professed.
"You already have," she wept. "Go home Griss."
"I have no home. I haven't had a home since you left! You promised me the world and then you took it away. I risked everything and gained nothing! You left me! I don't know how to be alone anymore. You know me," he pleaded. "No one else does."
"Heather knows you," she trembled. "Heather has always known you."
"Sara…don't do this," he begged.
"If you…ever loved…me…protect him…protect this baby…protect him," she urged.
"Sara?"
"All things come to an end," she whispered. "He shouldn't."
She felt the life slowly draining from her.
So this is what it's like to die…
Just need to hang on long enough for…
He grabbed the call button.
Nurses and doctors appeared as he gave them permission for emergency surgery.
He watched as they whisked her away while he stood there and wondered if he would ever hold her warm hand again.
Grissom kept to himself as Catherine whispered softly to Brass.
He didn't know when she arrived.
He had been too busy staring at the double doors and praying that someone would give him some kind of word.
As the door opened, a surgeon appeared. He knew that everything would change the moment the surgeon gave him the news.
He couldn't lose her.
God help him, he had chosen the life of Sara over their child.
She would hate him.
He just wanted her alive.
He could not bear the thought of losing her.
I thought we could weather anything…
"Mr. Grissom?"
He stood slowly.
"Your wife is out of surgery. She's in recovery right now. You'll be able to see her in a few hours."
He sighed followed by a sudden sense of overwhelming fear.
"The baby?" he asked.
"The baby is in intensive care. He's a fighter but I have to be honest with you Mr. Grissom. Most babies his gestational age do not survive. The next seventy- two hours are critical."
"Can I see him?"
"Yes, if you'll follow the nurse, she can take you to the neonatal unit."
Grissom stood there in front of the window and stared into the incubator.
Beneath the wires and the hoses lay a small body.
The sight horrified him.
His hand covered his mouth as his other pressed against the glass.
"Gil?"
He kept his eyes on the small body.
"Gil?" repeated Catherine.
"He's uhm too small," he heard himself say.
"He's a fighter…like Sara," she said as her hand entwined with his.
Grissom shook his head. "I did this."
"How?" she asked.
"I chose Sara over him," he agonized.
"Gil, you didn't decide anything. There was no more time left…Sara did the best she could. It's up to him now," said Catherine.
"He's so small," he said again.
"So is Sara," replied Catherine.
"Gil!" called Brass.
He refused to turn.
"It's Sara," said Brass.
It made him turn.
"The doctors want to talk with you," he said.
He glanced back at the baby before heading down the hall. The doctor was waiting for him.
"Mr. Grissom, I wanted to talk with you about your wife's condition," said Dr. Allen.
"The surgeon told me they had to remove her ruptured spleen," said Grissom.
"The splenectomy was completed immediately when Sara continued to have problems breathing. The greatest concern with this type of surgery is the risk of infection. Sara began running a temperature an hour ago and it's going up. We're giving her antibiotics hoping to stave off any further complications. Her ribs were bruised from the impact of the airbag."
He nodded trying to take everything in.
"We'd like to restrict any visitors in Sara's room right now until the fever is gone….just as a precaution from exposing her to…"
"Of course," Grissom agreed. "Wait…I want to be with her."
"Are you ill?"
"No."
"We'd like for you to go through a sterilization process each time…that applies to your son as well."
"My son?" he asked.
"You want to see your son, don't you?" asked Dr. Allen.
"Yes…I didn't know I would be permitted."
"The best thing for your son is human contact. His doctor will talk more with you about that."
Grissom nodded.
Grissom rubbed his eyes as he sat there in the hallway.
Catherine sat down beside him.
"Go back, Catherine," he said closing his eyes.
"I can stay," she said. "Besides, the guys are depending on me for updates."
"How are they?" whispered Brass to Catherine.
"Sara is running a temperature…they're afraid it's an infection," explained Catherine.
All heads turned when Lady Heather appeared.
"Oh Christ," seethed Brass.
Note from author:
Thanks to everyone who has left a review. I am busy working on another story that I hope to post as soon as this one ends.
Take care!