When Grissom returned to his cell, he was angry. Angry with Sara for showing up unannounced and turning his carefully ordered world upside down, but angry with himself too for the way he'd reacted as soon as he'd suspected she'd come with ulterior motives. He wished he could have found the words to explain to her why he had cut himself off the way he had, but she'd put him on the spot and he'd panicked. How could he have verbalised how wretched he felt, how his guilt and his search for atonement and a sense of forgiveness fuelled his actions?
He thought he'd laid everything out in the letter he'd left with Brass for her. He thought he'd made everything clear, that denying himself her love, cutting himself off his life on the outside and not fighting for a lesser plea, was his penance and the only way he thought he could find some kind of redemption. He hated himself for putting her through more heartache, for walking out of the visit without even a goodbye the way he had done, but he'd had no choice. She had her own agenda, one he couldn't face, one he knew would clash with what he was trying to achieve.
If he could, he would return to the recreation yard and take his frustration out on the punching bag. But it was time for count, and he couldn't. As it was, he just paced around his cell restlessly, muttering, cursing. He stopped by his locker – maybe a little reading would still the racing thoughts in his head – but his hands shook too much and he couldn't undo the padlock. He took a breath, closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool metal, and tried to clear his mind.
When he felt calmer, he worked the combination on the padlock and opened the locker. He was reaching for his GED test preparation books when he felt her smiling at him from the corner of his eye. With a sigh, he took out the English textbook, paused and turned toward the photograph. Gently, he prised it off the locker door and took it and the book with him. Careful not to bang his head on the upper bunk frame, he slumped down onto the edge of his bed and stared at her blurring face.
Why didn't she tell him she was coming? Why didn't she give him a little warning, some time to prepare himself? Why didn't Jim? He could have put forward a better front and put some order in the chaos that was his mind; he could have hidden his shame and desperation better, his distress too, and not let his emotion dictate his actions and words as he had done.
She was hurt and angry and she wanted answers, and yet she hadn't once judged him; she hadn't condemned him, not for the awful crime he'd committed anyway, quite the opposite in fact. She'd shown him love and compassion, and pity too, which he couldn't cope with and certainly didn't deserve. Lying fully down onto the bed, he let out a long sigh and dried his eyes.
"They missed you at the library," Manuel said, stepping into the cell.
Startling, Grissom quickly turned away and wiped at his face.
"I saw Greenberg, and he gave me these for you."
Grissom glanced round. His back to him, Manuel was setting down a stack of papers on the table; English work for him to read over and correct. Manuel turned around, and Grissom quickly looked away.
"You're back early. The visit not go well?"
Grissom let out a long breath. "You can say that again."
"Bad news from home?"
Grissom turned a look of puzzlement toward Manuel, who merely shrugged his shoulders while nodding at Sara's photo on the bed.
"Soy más que una cara bonita," the young Hispanic replied with a cheeky grin – Not just a pretty face. Chuckling to himself, Manuel moved to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, pretending to fluff up his hair despite the fact that his head was shaven under the folded bandanna.
Grissom gave a short, amused laugh and shifting on the bed picked up the photograph.
"You lucky it lasted as long as it did," Manuel remarked quietly, and Grissom refocused on him with a start. Still at the sink, the younger man pulled off the bandanna, turned the faucet on before bending forward and running his head under the water. "My girl dumped me first chance she got," he went on, when he finished. "Took the niños with her. Haven't seen them in three years." With a sigh he grabbed his towel, then turned to look at Grissom. "First thing I do when I come out is track them down."
Grissom's brow rose.
Manuel shrugged sheepishly. "You know what I mean."
"Actually, I ended things with Sara—my wife—when I went down," Grissom said, turning his attention back to the photo.
"How come you still got the ring on then?"
Grissom's eyes lowered to his left hand.
"I don't get you, man," Manuel said in a chuckle.
Grissom scoffed. "Not many people do."
"But she does."
Grissom looked up at his cellmate with surprise.
Manuel's shoulder lifted. "She must do. She married you, right?"
Grissom's eyes lowered back to Sara's smiling face, and he sighed. There was a series of loud shouts coming from down the hall, and both men turned toward the noise with matching frown. Manuel moved to the open cell door to take a look, shrugged and then went to his locker. Grissom reached for his reading glasses from the table, put them on and after opening the English textbook at the right page began reading up for his next tutorial. His mind wasn't in it.
"I got mail today," Manuel announced matter-of-factly.
Grissom looked up once more, his gaze narrowing over the top of his glasses on the white envelope Manuel was clutching and the distinctive black lettering in the top left corner.
"Is it from the parole board?" he asked with immediate interest, putting the book down and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
Manuel's face broke into a grin, and without being invited he sat down next to Grissom.
"I think I understand it all," Manuel said, pulling legal documents out of the envelope. He was about to hand them to Grissom when he thought better of it. He unfolded the top letter and started to read it out loud. At first his reading was a little hesitant and stilted, Manuel stumbling on the longer judicial terms, but soon he got into his stride and proudly announced that he would be having a hearing in front of the parole board in six weeks' time.
"That's great news." Smiling widely, Grissom removed his glasses. "I'm happy for you," he said, patting Manuel on the shoulder.
"You did that, man, not me." Manuel's grin widened. "I'm going to see my babies again."
"Well, it's not a done deal."
Manuel tried to dampen his excitement, but in vain. "I know. I know. But you're going to keep helping me, right? Be my coach?"
His gaze averting, Grissom gave a nod.
Manuel jumped to his feet, slid the letter back in the envelope and put it away in his locker. "You coming to lunch?" he then asked, headed out of the cell.
Grissom shook his head and reopened the book. "I'm not hungry."
Manuel gave a nod before disappearing out of sight. Grissom stood up and slipping his glasses back on took a seat at the table. He'd prepare his lesson and do a little grading, that'd take his mind off things. The unit would be quieter now, for a while anyway, as most inmates headed to the dining room for lunch before moving on to their various afternoon occupations. Maybe agreeing to a second visit was a good thing, he thought then. He could prepare himself this time, put his mask on and allay all her fears. And then he'd try to explain why it would be best for everyone concerned if she didn't come to visit again.
The rest of the day went by in a blur, as most days did, because all things considered there was very little idle time to have when in jail. The system was designed to keep everyone busy, because if everyone was busy then they kept out of trouble. Well, mostly. But busy suited him just fine.
When he woke up the next day at 6 it was with a sense of purpose and excitement he hadn't felt in a very long time. He shaved with care then went about his early morning routine as usual. Time seemed to trickle past, but finally his name was called and he joined the line of inmates whose visitors were already waiting.
When, finally, he stepped into the visitation room, Sara was sitting at the same table as the previous day. Not looking as anxious as she had then, she broke into a wide, happy smile on seeing him. She'd let her hair dry into little waves, just the way he liked it, and wore jeans and a cream blouse that made her look younger than her forty-two years. She waited until he reached the table to stand and, without realising quite how, he found himself in her arms. Leaning her head against his, she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
The rush of love and relief was so intense that for a moment he forgot he was about to break her heart all over again and returned the embrace with all his might. It had been so long since he'd held her in his arms, and been held too; her touch was so loved and so missed that he forgot where he was. He knew that allowing himself this reprieve would only exacerbate his pain and feelings of loss and loneliness later on, but it felt so good right then that he didn't care. All too soon though, she pulled back from him and glancing toward one of the officers dutifully sat back down at the table.
"I told myself no more tears," she said, quickly wiping at a rogue tear, and gave him a wide smile.
Seeing her so strong, so full of spirit, love and resolve, took his breath away. All his carefully-worded openers flew out of his head, and he could only stare at her, speechless and rooted to the spot.
"I had plenty of time on my hands last night," she went on, unfazed by his behaviour, "so I read the rulebook. And we're allowed a brief hug at the start and at the end of each visit. I intend to claim both."
She held his gaze steadily and he found himself spellbound.
"You, sit down!" an officer called loudly, and refocusing suddenly Grissom moved to his side of the table and pulled out the chair.
"Thanks for…coming," she said quietly, her hand reaching for his on the table as soon as he had sat down.
Grissom gave her a soft smile. "You didn't think I would?"
She shrugged. "I had my reservations."
"Me too," he admitted uneasily. He flashed a nervous smile then lowered his gaze to their joined hands. He was about to ask whether the rulebook mentioned how long they were allowed to hold hands when she spoke.
"You don't know how much it means to me that you came," she said, and he looked back up.
"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time, and laughed.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she went on, stealing the words right out of his mouth. She pulled her hand out of his grasp and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I just got…" Faltering, she blew out a breath, gave him a trembling smile. "I got overwhelmed and…probably – no, definitely – overwhelmed you in the process." She flicked her eyes away from his face. "It's just…You know how I get."
Grissom nodded his head. She was looking a little more uncertain now, and he wished he could make things easier for her. His hands clenched in front of him, wanting to reach out to her again, but he kept them to him.
"I've missed you so much, you know, over the months and…" she brushed at the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, "I want you to know that what happened, and all the time we were apart, doesn't change the way I feel about you." Her tears spilled, and she took a breath, flashed a stiff smile. "I love you, Gil, and this…situation doesn't change that."
Moved by the candour of her words, Grissom felt tears build in his eyes. "And I love you too," he said at last, almost against his will. "I never stopped. But Sara—"
She held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Please, let me talk. Let me say what I have to say, and then…" Leaving the rest of her sentence unsaid, she shrugged. "You got to understand where I'm coming from," she went on quietly. "I know I shouldn't have spoken to your attorney without you knowing, without your approval—I didn't mean to go behind your back and I am sorry I did, but what choice did I have when you won't talk to me?"
Grissom looked away.
"I read the court transcripts of the trial, Gil." His gaze snapped back to her face. "I know you feel guilty and you hate yourself for taking that woman's life. I'd feel the same if the roles were reversed." She blew out a breath, looked for words that seemingly wouldn't come. "I think I understand why you're doing what you're doing, punishing yourself the way you do."
"Sara—"
She met his gaze dead on. "No, just…just listen to me, please. You know I'm not judging you. There's nothing to judge. But don't you think you're maybe punishing yourself too harshly? Isn't being here, behind bars, enough?"
There was resolve in her eyes and, already knowing he wasn't going to like what she was going to say, he sighed.
"It's not just yourself you're punishing, Gil. You're punishing me and your mother too. And everybody else that cares about you. And that's not fair."
"But honey, don't you see? That's the only way I can live with myself and what I have done. The court's punishment is one thing, but it won't give me a clear conscience. I don't know what will, I don't know if I ever can get that back but I have to do what I need to do in order to get there. Being locked up as well as cutting myself off everything and everyone I hold dear is my penance for taking an innocent woman's life. Surely, you can understand that."
Sara was looking dumbfounded. She opened her mouth, only to shut it without speaking.
"You want the truth?" he said, his tone gaining in urgency. "I didn't tell you what happened, couldn't bring myself to tell you what happened, because I'm ashamed. I'm deeply ashamed, Sara, of what I've done and I couldn't bear to see that shame reflected back at me."
"It wouldn't have been like that," she defended.
Grissom dismissed her words with a shake of the head. "More than that, Sara, if I'd told you, you'd have tried to make me change my plea, claim there were mitigating circumstances, but despite what you think there aren't. I'm guilty, Sara, of one of the worst crimes. I took someone's life, and by doing that I took that person away from their loved ones."
"Gil—" she said, her head shaking, as if wanting him to stop.
He made himself continue. "I ran a red light, broadsided a sedan, killing the woman passenger."
Her head was still shaking. "It was a mistake, Gil. You didn't set out to kill her. It was an accident."
"I was drunk, and I took the wheel. I made that choice. I knew what I was doing."
She blinked at the fresh tears in her eyes. "You weren't drunk."
"Okay, maybe I wasn't drunk, but I had drunk."
"Still, you were below the limit."
"That is exactly what I'm talking about. You're making excuses for me, and I don't want you to."
Sara took in a deep breath she let out slowly, and then wiping at her eyes nodded her head. "Okay. Then I won't." She paused, let her words sink in. "I don't want to fight with you. I get that you got to do what you got to do to be at peace with yourself. I respect that. I don't agree with how you're doing it, but I respect your decision and I'll support you with it."
Grissom registered a look of surprise, these words of compliance the last thing he'd expected from her.
"I only hope the roles never get reversed," she added, holding his gaze steadily, "and that you don't ever have to be me in this situation." A sad smile crossed her face. "But I don't have any choice in the matter, do I? Either I…" she shrugged, "go along with what you're doing, or I don't get to see you at all."
Grissom let out along breath. "About that," he almost said, but she was making so much effort, making so many allowances for him that yet again the words didn't come. He averted his gaze, at a loss suddenly as to where to go from there.
"So," she said, her tone a little too bright for it not to be forced, when silence stretched between them, "tell me. You been working out?"
This sudden change of tack took him off guard. A slow smile grew on his face at the fact that she'd noticed. He raised his right arm, flexed his bicep. "Just a little boxing, you know. I've learnt a few moves. You got to be able to hold your own here, or at least be seen to be able to."
Her face darkened and she nodded her head that she understood.
"This place gets a bad rap, but my unit's not so bad," he went on, feeling the sudden need to assuage some of her fears as to his wellbeing. "I figured early on that if you just do what you're supposed to do and are reasonably nice to people, you'll do okay." He stroked at his nose. "That doesn't mean I haven't had any conflicts, but I haven't had many. Mostly people leave me alone." His shoulder lifted. "I've settled here. I've a routine, two jobs."
She smiled. "Only two, huh?"
"Two paid jobs. The rest is voluntary."
Her smile broadened. "Let me guess. The library?"
He shrugged. "I get to have the best pick of the books. I do a bit of tutoring actually. That's my cover here. The guys think I was a teacher."
The look in Sara's eyes was earnest. "You were a teacher."
His smile fading, he nodded his head softly. Falling silent, they held each other's gazes for a moment before she told him about Vegas and work and the guys. She shared anecdotes, and despite his earlier misgivings he found that he was enjoying himself. He was going to broach the subject of not visiting again when straightening up Sara made to stand.
"I've brought money," she said, raising a clear plastic bag in his eye line, "for the vending machine." She pointed to the machines in the far corner, and he turned toward them, hadn't even noticed they were there. "The rulebook says we're allowed to use them. Well, I'm allowed to use them with my money. You're not." Grissom turned back toward her. A smile tugging at her lips, she shrugged her shoulder. "So, I'm going to get myself a soda. You want anything?"
He was going to say no, that he was fine, when he thought better of it. "A Dr Pepper would be nice."
Her brow rose. "A Dr Pepper?"
Her look of surprise made him laugh. "Yes, a Dr Pepper."
She stared at him with disbelief.
His smile softened tenderly. "They don't sell them in the store. And besides, when's the last time we had one, huh?"
Sara's smile widened, and he knew that her thoughts had taken her to the same place his had moments before. She stared at him for a long time, a myriad of emotion passing through her eyes before finally pushing to her feet.
"Don't go anywhere," she said. "I'll be right back."