Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to CSI.
A/N: This is a case file story that contains mature material (not smut, just mature, including nasty language and sexual/violent situations). It is a multi-chapter fic (30+ chapters). There is a little GSR, but it is suggested throughout. Lots of Brass/Grissom and Catherine/Grissom friendships.
Chapter 2
Nick and Warrick came back to the garage some 30 minutes later. They found Grissom hunched in the backseat. Without so much as a hello, the other two men simply joined their supervisor in processing.
Ten minutes later, Grissom's cellular rang with Conrad Ecklie's number on the caller ID. "Grissom."
"Grissom, you're needed at a scene in Mesquite. I know you're working on the Jackson murders, but…"
"It's all right, Conrad. Nick and Warrick can handle it from here," Grissom said, thinking it might be best to get away. "What are the details?"
--
Grissom made notes and ended the call with Ecklie. "I need to go to Mesquite and process a scene there."
"Bugs?" Nick asked.
"Yeah," Grissom said, not wanting to offer more details, especially with Nick. "You guys can handle this from here. Let me know of any progress."
"We'll let you know. Good luck, Grissom," Nick said as Grissom left the garage.
Warrick stayed in the car as Nick watched Grissom leave. "Man, that must be one hell of a scene to get him out of here so quick. You'd think he wouldn't want to be around us," Nick said with a laugh.
"Yeah," Warrick replied. Nick saw something Warrick's reserve.
"You OK?" Nick asked.
Warrick took a deep breath. He'd screwed up, but if he mentioned a word of his conversation with Grissom, that would make the situation even worse. He'd hit Grissom with a cheap shot. He didn't want to do that again.
"Yeah. I talked to Tina earlier. It didn't go well," Warrick said.
"Oh," Nick replied. "Want to talk about it?"
"Nah, man. Let's just get back to work."
Nick nodded, and the two processed the car.
--
The drive to Mesquite offered Grissom time to clear his head and regain his focus. Because he was working through what would be the dayshift, he drove for 80 miles as the sun rose along the desert's horizon. The sun shined directly into the windshield as he drove northeast to his destination.
About 25 minutes in the drive, his cellular rang. He picked it up without looking at the ID.
"Grissom."
"Hey, it's me. Are you busy?"
"Sara. No, I'm on the road."
"To home or a scene?"
"A scene."
"Is anyone with you?"
"No, just me. How are you? It's been a while," Grissom added, recalling it had probably been a week since they last talked.
"I'm fine. I'm sorry I haven't called sooner. I did get your message. It was so short. Is everything OK?"
He never thought he'd hear Sara speak such a ridiculous question. Five months was a long time. Of course everything was not OK.
Grissom's silence answered Sara's question. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid question. It's just the past couple of times we spoken on the phone I feel like I talk to you but you aren't talking to me. You don't even talk about cases anymore."
"They are just cases, Sara. Some of them I don't want to rehash over the phone."
"OK, OK," Sara said. She was pulling teeth at this point, but she didn't want to hang up. "We can talk about something else, then."
What? Grissom thought.
Again, Sara could almost read Grissom's thoughts. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
"OK," Grissom said genially. "How are you? Where are you now? Where have you been? Do you have enough money? Are you ever coming home?"
The last question caught in Grissom's throat. "I know. I shouldn't have asked that."
Sara sighed. "It's what's on your mind. I asked, didn't I?"
"Yes."
Silence, at times, is overrated.
"I need to get off the road and make a pit stop."
"Wait, don't hang up," Sara urged.
"I'm not. I wasn't. Don't worry."
"I'm in San Francisco now. I've been doing some traveling, and I need to get away for a short while. I won't be able to call…"
"How long is a short while?"
"I'm not sure."
He squinted his eyes. "Please, Sara, just give me something. A timeline, something. I'm getting… I just think…" He gritted his teeth. These phone conversations left him exhausted. He was sick of talking with her without her face-to-face.
"I'll be back in San Francisco probably by the 2nd. If I'm not, I will get a message out to you — by e-mail or Fed-Ex or however. But I will get the message to you. OK?"
"Yes. I need to go, Sara."
"I know."
"That's it?" Grissom asked.
"I love you," Sara replied.
"I love you."
"I'll talk to you as soon as I can."
"OK, Sara."
And they hung up.
Grissom stopped the car at a gas station. He needed to gas up, walk around and get some water.
And he needed to focus. But all he could think about was she never answered the question.
She never said whether she was coming home.
TBC