Title: When the Evidence Lies
Rating: M for mature themes
Spoilers: Established GSR post Season 6 Finale
Author's Notes: This story will deal with mature themes and may not be suitable for all audiences. I don't own them, just taking them out for a spin. The story was beta'd, but I made some changes afterward so all mistakes are my own. Italics indicate either conversations in ASL or flashbacks. This chapter is dedicated to all the wonderful people who asked when the next chapter was coming and checking I hadn't given up on it. Thank you for everything.
The supreme act of courage is that of forgiving ourselves.
That which I was not but could have been.
That which I would have done but did not do.
Can I find the fortitude to remember in truth,
to understand, to submit, to forgive
and to be free to move on in time?
Kauffman
Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes trying to banish the images that seemed burned onto his corneas. Blood pounded in his ears and his breathing was loud in the silence of the room. His sleep hadn't been restful; his subconscious had jumbled, distorted and merged memories of the past and present into frightening images.
The nightmare wasn't a new one exactly, just a disturbing mutation of the one that had haunted him since the Debbie Marlin case. A shudder shook his body as he remembered it, watching helplessly in open mouth horror as a huge scalpel sliced Sara open. He felt ill remembering seeing her lying in a pool of her own blood with huge gaping slashes to her throat and womb.
Placing two fingers against his carotid he began calculating his pulse and breathing through his nose trying to regain control of his stomach. The need to be sick was too strong; as Grissom stumbled down the hall to the bathroom he noticed the back of the house was quiet and dark. By the time he placed his hands on the cool countertop he'd gotten some control over his stomach. The images hadn't faded yet and he was haunted by the memory of them.
Turning on the faucet, he tried splashing the cool water over his face. If it had just been a regular dream he could have dismissed it, but it wasn't and the combination of memories and fears had too firm a grip on him. He wanted to call Sara, let her voice soothe his fears away, but knew he couldn't, he'd given up that right when he left. Instead he tried to recall other images of Sara, anything to replace the nightmarish one.
It had been a long and unsatisfying shift; hours of processing and a re-enactment on the plane wasn't enough. There could be no justice in the man's death; the D.A. wasn't filing charges on the other passengers. Maybe that was why he'd joined the team as they tried to find closure.
The weather had been more humid than normal and Sara wore her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She sat facing the door giving him a good excuse to focus on her; she'd looked him in the eye.
"Well, we were just talking about murder and whether we would commit it. I couldn't." There'd been a quiet intensity to Sara's statement, at the time he'd written it off to her political or religious beliefs, but now he understood. Sara couldn't kill because she'd seen the devastating effects it had on her own life.
Only it wasn't Sara's answer that evening that was haunting him, but his own words. "If just one person had stopped and taken the time to look at the guy to listen to him, to figure out what was wrong with him it might not have happened. It took five people to kill him. It would have only taken one person to save his life."
Wiping a hand over his face he leaned against the sink trying to pull himself together. Opening his eyes slowly he caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink. For the first time since his surgery he was disgusted by the coward looking back. He knew just how lucky he'd been that delaying the surgery hadn't caused significant hearing loss. And he'd sworn he wouldn't wait until it was nearly 'too late' again; that he'd learn from that experience.
It had still taken him years to make a move, but he'd felt fortunate that even after years of hurt, avoidance and misunderstanding he hadn't been too late. Sara gave him a chance at love and happily ever after. Not that any of it mattered now.
Exiting the bathroom he nearly ran into his mother; her expression serious as she handed him a cup of black coffee before signing brusquely. "We're going to talk now."
"Not now Mom."
"Yes now. I let you hide from this for too long. I hoped you'd handle Lindy's death better than I handled your father's. When you brought Sara home I thought maybe you had finally dealt with it, but you haven't and now it's hurting you both."
"Lindy doesn't have anything to do with Sara."
"Doesn't she Gil?"
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
"Getting ready for an expedition." Her eyebrow rose as she stared at him.
Her expression was sarcastic and her signs exaggerated. "Funny you didn't mention it last week when we talked about the holidays."
Spinning on her heel, he watched his mother stalk down the hall, forcing him to follow. Damn it he was fifty years old, but she made him feel like he was sixteen again lying about why he'd missed curfew. He'd already told her why he'd left Vegas and he didn't want to go through it all again.
"This is my life Mom."
"Yes Gil and you've messed it up long enough out of some misguided guilt. What happened to Lindy was terrible, but not your fault." She lifted his face, watching a single tear run down his face. "She'd want you to be happy Gil. It's time to forgive yourself, it wasn't your fault."
Looking into her eyes Gil felt something break inside and no more words were needed as his mother wrapped her arms around him. She guided him to the couch, rubbing his back in soothing support.
"Mom I don't know what to do to make things right."
"Talk a walk on the beach to clear your head. I'll get dinner started."
The sun was low on the horizon as he began walking down the mostly deserted beach. In the distance further down the beach he could see the group of teens gathered around the small fire. Rather than turning back he walked closer and closer. On one side of the fire he saw a young man with curly blonde hair holding a lithe brunette close. The pair reminded him of nights he'd spent on the beach with Lindy, but the music they were listening to was leading his mind away from the past and back to Las Vegas. Stopping to watch the sunset on the Pacific he found himself silently wishing for a sign of what to do.
For years he'd run from Sara and nearly lost her more than once. His stomach clenched reflexively as he remembered three of the close calls; the traffic stop, her suspension and Adam Trent, but she'd come through each of those relatively unscathed. He hadn't been too late and somehow even after years of avoiding it, he had a relationship with Sara.
God, he'd made a mess of things in the last thirty-six hours; his life was in shambles all because of fears and feelings he'd bottled up for years. Gil sat down on the sand; it was only after he'd lost everything that he wished that he'd handle things differently. He was beginning to see he had made the wrong choice and he'd screwed up big. He wanted a second chance, but wasn't sure what if anything he could do to fix it.
The couple hours of nightmare plagued sleep hadn't been enough and the dreadful conversation with his mother afterwards left him feeling even older, more tired and battered. Sitting on the beach arms resting on bent knees Grissom watched the slow eternal dance as the waves advanced and retreated. He allowed the perpetual motion to soothe his battered soul as he accepted the truth of what his mother had said; it was time to forgive and finally release the past so he could salvage his future.
The sand to his right was kicked up as someone sat next to him; he'd been half-expecting his mother to join him.
"You want to talk about it?"
Grissom turned shocked to hear the familiar New Jersey accent and wasn't sure if he should be happy to see his friend or not. "Jim what are you doing here?"
"Your mom said you'd be out here." Gil's eyes narrowed, shrugging the Detective ignored him and focused on the horizon. "I could ask you the same thing."
Grissom raised an eyebrow and with a tilt of his head he assessed Jim's mood. The cop thought he already knew the answer, leaving Gil the choice to either talk to his friend or be raked over the hot coals. From years of observing Jim's interrogations he was well aware of what Jim was capable of when he wanted an admission and confession. "According to my mother I'm running away."
"Smart woman."
"Why are you here Jim?"
"I'm trying to keep you from screwing up a good thing Pal."
Gil looked down at his hands the pain of the past and present were so close to the surface. "I think it's too late for that."
"Maybe, but you won't know for sure unless you come home."
AN: The flashback is from Unfriendly Skies. Future chapters will focus on what's happening in Las Vegas with Catherine and Sara.
