Chapter 9 Coping
A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks, as always, to Michele aka griot for the beta work. This story will be updated weekly.
Chapter 9 Coping
Sara's sick leave ended abruptly with a call from dispatch. The teenage daughter of a nightclub owner had been discovered dead in her home. Due to their wealth and family connections, the entire shift had been called in for the investigation.
Grissom entered the girl's bedroom where David and Catherine were examining the body. Apparently pink had been her favorite color – the walls were a shockingly bright shade along with lighter pink and bold lime green accessories which complimented the simple white furnishings.
Rather than joining the group clustered about the body, he stood back, scanning the room. A pink satin dress hung on the door of the open closet. Several china dolls sat on a dresser along with assorted framed photos. For some reason, a baby picture captured his attention. He stepped closer to study the infant's chubby cheeks and bright smile.
Reluctantly, he chided himself for putting off the inevitable, he edged closer to the bed. It was becoming harder for him to approach each new victim. As he suspected, seeing the young girl was unsettling. Her unblemished skin and straight, dark hair enhanced her innocent appearance along with her pink cotton nightshirt, though clearly her development indicated that she was not a child.
"Seventeen?" Grissom asked.
"Her father says she turned fifteen last month," David responded.
A bitter taste rose in his mouth. Swallowing hard, he commented more to himself, "It's almost as if her killer didn't want to mare her beauty. Like he knew her."
"I don't know if we can bank on that," Catherine murmured. "Daddy has significant connections to a shady crowd. If he got the wrong guy mad, this could be payback."
Grissom sighed, not looking forward to the politics this case might entail.
"Any thoughts?"
Catherine explained, "The room is messy - typical teenage clutter so it's hard to tell if a struggle took place. There are no defensive wounds on the body and the bed coverings are pristine, though they could've been adjusted afterwards for staging purposes. We'll have a tox screen done, just in case."
Grissom studied the room, which was typical with posters of teen heart throbs plastering the walls. Being a wealthy family, a lap top computer and HD flat screen television were proudly displayed, along with a hot pink cell phone on the nightstand. He dusted the phone for prints then bagged it to bring to the lab. Once finished, he glanced up to discover Sara dusting the windowsill on the far side of the room.
"What are you doing?" Grissom objected somewhat loudly, rushing towards her.
"I thought you didn't have a problem with me handling high profile cases," Catherine's voice rose as she followed him.
Grissom turned towards her. "That's not the issue. It's her first night back. Can't you have her do the perimeter?"
Sara protested, "Why would I need to do that?"
"You just got out of the hospital a few days ago. You know…" Grissom stared at her meaningfully, trying to telegraph his concerns about her health and the baby's welfare.
Catherine looked at them strangely as Sara gazed blankly towards Grissom. Trying to be diplomatic, Catherine asked, "Do we need to be taking special precautions?"
"Of course not! Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean that I can't do my job." Sara stared hotly at Grissom.
Catherine's eyes grew wider with this unexpected revelation as the couple fidgeted uncomfortably. They were still getting used to the concept themselves; they hadn't discussed revealing it to others. Catherine grinned broadly, "Great news! Congratulations!"
Stepping aside in fear of being hugged by Catherine, Grissom insisted, "Yes, well…she needs to be careful."
Before Sara could protest, Catherine interceded, "True, but fingerprinting powder isn't a hazardous substance. There are specific department guidelines. I'll show you later."
Sensing an ally, Sara smiled toward the older woman.
"Other than specific chemicals used for certain assays and avoiding drug busts, you're practically good until delivery. I'll get you a copy – soon," Catherine assured them.
Turning to Grissom she asked, once again, "Are you sure you don't have issues with me being in charge? I don't want to step on any toes."
He held back a laugh. "Of course not." While he'd always disliked the public relations aspect of his position, in the past he'd taken a certain amount of pleasure from frustrating the press or the Sheriff by poking holes in their unreasonable expectations. Now he lacked the confidence to pull that off. It was a relief not to deal with it.
Sara slid the window open and started leaning over the edge.
"What are you doing?" He panicked.
"Looking to see if there's any evidence that some one climbed up this trellis."
"You're not going out there," he warned.
Sara's fierce glare challenged him.
Catherine diplomatically cleared her throat, "I agree. We'll have Warrick check it out from his end. There's no need to put yourself in that type of situation."
XXXXXXXX
"Here." Catherine tossed Grissom a pamphlet entitled "Your Pregnancy and the Lab."
He glanced up from his paperwork to catch it then thumbed through the pages while she dragged a chair closer to his desk.
"I gave Sara a copy too."
He nodded, eyes focused on his reading material. Catherine made herself comfortable.
"This can't be right. Hasn't dimethylsulfate been proven to be a carcinogen?"
"True, but the dosage would have to be a helluva lot more than the microgram quantities used in any assay we'd perform. Lighten up Gil. I know you've been through a lot and you have reasons to be uptight, especially after Sara's collapse but you're only gonna push her away if you keep trying to clip her wings."
She had his complete attention.
"You need to trust her judgment. You both want to have a healthy baby. We all know Sara can be a little headstrong but don't you think we'll be looking out for her?"
The familiar pounding started at his temples.
"Is she feeling any better?"
"A little. She's stubborn."
She laughed, "Look who's talking. I can't believe you're taking the plunge – that you're having a baby."
Rather than abject terror, he merely felt apprehensive. After spending the last few days convincing Sara that she'd be a great mother, and discussing some of the practical aspects, he was starting to get accustomed to the idea. He also tried not to think too much about it.
She didn't wait for a response that wouldn't be coming. Plunging ahead, she said, "Being a parent is nerve wracking. Babies don't come with instruction manuals. And your biological instincts can only take you so far."
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, wishing she'd stop talking; wishing she'd stop reminding him of what he was trying so hard not to wallow in. It was difficult enough dealing with the case at hand and his concerns for Sara.
"I wasn't ready to have a child – God only knows. But you gotta take what life gives you. It hasn't always been easy. There've been lots of tough times where I just wanted to give up. But there've been good times too. It's hard but it's worth it. Just like how you forget the hell of childbirth once you see your baby."
Oh God – he hadn't thought that far ahead. Now he had a new fear to add to his rapidly expanding repertoire. He changed the subject.
"How's it going with the Sheriff?"
Catherine's lips twisted slightly. "You know. He expects instant answers."
"What did you tell him?"
"That we were looking into mob contacts."
His shoulders stiffened, "Is that wise Catherine? You know the media – they'll take a scrap of information and push it so hard that people will think it's the truth."
She shrugged, "Gets reporters off my back and gives them something to do. Besides maybe they'll do some leg work for us – researching the Reas family contacts and possibly stir up some action. It buys us time and if it's a false lead, the real killer will lose his edge and get sloppy."
"Catherine…" he warned.
She didn't back down. "I have to do things my way. Besides, I'm better at the political game than you ever were."
Although he disagreed with her tactics, arguing with her was a waste of time. "Any new results from the lab?"
"Not on our end. Someone had recently climbed up the trellis to the girl's bedroom window, though we can't establish exactly when it occurred. Warrick is checking out some fibers we discovered on a branch and there was a partial tire tread print in mud beside the shed as well."
"What about COD?" Grissom felt ashamed that he couldn't bring himself to go to the morgue to view that innocent face once more.
"Light pink fibers were found in her nose. I suspect they may match those from her pillowcase, suggesting suffocation. If this is so, it'll take time for any bruising to show. An SA kit was done and is being processed. Tox results will be in soon."
XXXXXX
"No!"
He bolted upright in bed, shaking.
"What's going on?" Sara asked, groggily. Putting a hand on his shoulder, "You're trembling."
"Nightmare." He struggled to control his panicked breathing.
After a significant pause, she prompted, "About…"
"I don't know." If he wasn't scared out of his mind, he would've realized that was the wrong response.
"Gil," she said, irritation creeping into her voice.
"I…don't know," his frustration level was rising.
"If you don't remember the dream, at least tell me what's on your mind. If you're having nightmares, something's bothering you." She leaned against his shoulder as he settled back against the pillows.
He had to fight his natural impulse to deny things, not wanting to upset her, not wanting to appear weak. Since her collapse, Sara had made it quite clear that she wouldn't stand for him leaving her out anymore. With effort, he said, "Losing you. And the baby."
She moved closer to him, "Those are perfectly normal fears. Just like you kept telling me the other day about my fears about being a good mother. You ought to read some of the books I bought."
He'd already started earlier that day which was part of the problem. "What if you get preeclampsia? What if there are issues with the baby's Rh factor or your blood sugar? What if there are complications with the delivery?"
"Gil," Then more softly she said, "You need to talk with your doctor about this."
"Wouldn't it be more appropriate if I talked to yours?" Certainly he'd be more knowledgeable about the complications of pregnancies.
"No," She nestled closer to his chest. "I'm talking about handling stress. Your fears about me and the baby and how we'll manage everything. Your irrational jealously towards Rob. Your obsessing over minor mistakes at work. You need to be able to handle this better. For your own piece of mind. I think he can help."
He wanted to deny it but he couldn't.
"Okay," he murmured.
"Are you feeling any better about becoming a parent?"
"A little."
She tilted her head, foolishly trying to discern his expression in the darkened room.
"I'm still scared but parts of it are becoming more attractive. I noticed a baby photo today at the Reas house and I started wondering what our baby would look like. If she'd have your eyes or curly hair or any dimples. Strangely enough, dolls, dresses and pink items are also starting to catch my eye."
"You think it will be a girl? I thought all men wanted a boy. Someone to play catch with, give a chemistry set to, or collect bugs with. A miniature version of themselves."
"I don't know why, but she's a girl." He felt foolish saying it aloud for he'd never been one for instincts or hunches but this felt so right. "And if she's anything like her mother…"
"She won't like dolls, or dresses or pink stuff."
"She'll be smart and she'll love to collect bugs."
XXXXXXXX
"A girl?" Dr. Walker teased.
Grissom shrugged from his seat on the leather sofa.
"Makes those protective instincts kick into even higher gear?"
Sara must have been speaking with Dr.Walker; for he could tell where the conversation was heading. It took effort to override his natural response – to deny or evade.
"Yes."
"It's normal, wanting to protect your family. But you can go overboard." Dr. Walker's eyes casually swept over his patient. "So…what's the worst thing that could happen? Be honest."
Grissom was convinced this honesty thing was highly overrated. But he complied.
"Sara and the baby could die."
"That would be unfortunate. Is there anything you can do to change that?"
Grissom's brow furrowed.
"Do you think keeping Sara locked up in her bedroom for her entire pregnancy would guarantee their safety?"
He scoffed. "Of course not."
"What if Sara never drinks any coffee or eats tuna fish, will that guarantee a healthy baby?"
"No."
"Do you see the point? It's useless to worry about things you can't control. Address what is reasonable and then let go of the rest. You have to tell yourself, 'There's nothing else I can do. Whatever happens, happens'."
"But.."
"There are no guarantees in life. You or I could be hit and killed by a bus tomorrow. It's not in our hands. Didn't your accident last year teach you that?
"You need to learn to recognize when you're being unreasonable, when your thoughts are becoming obsessive. Some people even put a rubber band around their wrist and pull it as a physical reminder when this happens. You need to stop negative thought patterns before they grow and take root."
He rose from the desk chair and approached Grissom.
"Here's an approach that might appeal to you. When we become obsessive, we make mistakes. So you look for holes in your logic. Let's try an example. How about Rob? What comes to your mind?"
Other than a burning sensation in his stomach? "He wants Sara."
"He doesn't have her – you do. She lives with you."
Playing along, Grissom replied, "What if she leaves me for him?"
"Pregnant with your child? Why would she do that?"
"Rob's life is less complicated than mine. He's younger. He has the energy to raise a child."
Dr. Walker sat on the edge of his desk. "If Sara was concerned about those issues, wouldn't she have left your hospital room before all this even started? Why take it on? She knew your situation wasn't pretty, that there could be significant complications, but she stood by you anyway. Think about it. The truth is that Sara didn't chose Rob, she choose you. Those are the facts. Then you shut the door on any more of those thoughts and move on."
He made it sound so logical.
"Try using these techniques this week and tell me how it goes next time. You may not be able to completely halt negative thoughts but hopefully you can at least start to recognize them." He rose, stretching his legs.
"What's going on with work? Is it still not feeling like it used to?"
Grissom might as well say it. "No. It's getting harder. I'm just not as excited about it."
"Is it still issues with making mistakes?"
A 'yes' automatically came to mind, but then he thought a moment. "I'm… not sure."
"How are you compensating?"
"I take a lot of notes and use an electronic organizer. I've developed routines to double check evidence. If I'm tired, I get another person to check my work."
"Those sound reasonable. Are they helping?"
Suddenly, he realized that they were. He hadn't made nearly as many frivolous mistakes as when he'd first returned. He hadn't even had as many blank outs. He'd started to recognize when he was tiring so he could prevent some of the episodes before they started. This ought to be excellent news and somehow he hadn't even noticed.
What was his problem?
"Some."
"Is there anything specific about this case?"
"I'm not sure. I told you I've been having issues with dealing with odors and the bodies. Issues I'd never had before."
Dr. Walker nodded, "Tell me more about the case."
"A fifteen year old girl was suffocated in her bedroom."
"Don't you see some parallels here? You're convinced you're having a baby girl which ratchets up your protective instincts. And here's an innocent female victim. You're seeing her as you would your own daughter and it's breaking your heart. But she's not yours. And the best way you can help her is to find her killer."
"I know."
"Isn't that part of why you got into this business in the first place? To help people?"
Grissom thought a moment. That wasn't entirely true. While he certainly enjoyed getting criminals off the street, his primary satisfaction had always been derived from solving mysteries – the lure of using science to solve complex problems. In fact, before his accident, his detachment from people on whole had enabled him to remain objective. It had protected him from emotional involvement with his subjects.
Now, his emotions were becoming a liability.
TBC
A/N: Since I'm going on vacation, next week's installment will be posted later in the week than usual.
