a/n: helloo. thanks for all your reviews...I hope the angst isn't weighing you down too much. I'm working on catching up to my previous updating speed, but things are busy! I'm trying, I'm trying.
Thanks, as always, to TroddenBlack, who's comments both make me laugh and help this fic so much. And I know she likes this chapter (angry Grissom!) so I hope you guys do too!
Chapter 11: Burnout
-----
"A fortune of one; that means less for some..."
-----
Sara forced herself to get up and follow the doctor. She'd just gotten control of herself and seeing the woman and knowing that her child was dead…it would probably just make her upset again. Then again, the faster she got this over with, the faster she could leave the hospital.
The faster she could get back and find Grissom.
Walking just behind the doctor down that white, seemingly never-ending hall, Sara suddenly found herself angry; angry that she was practically under hospital arrest; angry that she'd let Nick hear how upset she was; angry that Culpepper had almost killed them all; angry that this woman's kid was dead.
Angry at Grissom.
She was angry that he hadn't called yet. She'd tried the walkie-talkie at least a dozen times since the ambulance, and still no answer. She'd tried his cell, but she kept getting the same message;
"We're sorry; the customer you have attempted to contact is currently unavailable…"
She was getting quite acquainted with the lady from the automated message. And no offense to whomever she was, but Sara really wanted to throttle her neck. Either Grissom had no reception, or just didn't want to call her. Either way, she was still furious with him. She forced that out of her mind as she walked down the hall of the ICU, following the billowing white coat of the doctor.
Grissom rubbed his face with his hands in frustration. When he looked down at them, he saw that they were covered with black smudges. Sighing, he stood up on aching legs and made his way back to the campsite. He grabbed a change of clothes and a towel, promising himself that after a short shower he'd call Sara.
Normally, Gil Grissom hated public bathrooms. They were filthy, disgusting, and full of bacteria and god knows what else. Apparently, according to Sara, women's bathrooms were much cleaner, but he wasn't yet clear on how she'd made the comparison. Anyway, this particular night he was thankful to be able to strip out of his dirty and ragged clothing and stand under the scalding hot spray.
He let out a long, exasperated sigh and put his hands out ahead of him on the tiles, leaning his weight heavily on his arms. He watched the soot-blackened water roll down his calves and down to the floor where it swirled and swirled, finally slipping down into the abyss that was the drain. He rubbed his face with one hand, and when he pulled it away, he saw a stream of red water trailing down his forearm.
He'd forgotten that he had been bleeding. He'd forgotten the pain on the outside because he was too occupied with the pain inside.
Grissom didn't know how long he had stood under the shower in that little stall, but it took at least five minutes for his tired body to register the fact that the water had gotten frigidly cold. With one long, last sigh, he turned the shower off and reached for his towel. He got dressed into a black polo and his favourite jeans, rubbing his curly hair so the water droplets flew through the air.
As he walked out of the shower stall and into the men's bathroom, he caught his own eye in one of the mirrors. He walked up to it, watching his reflection grow closer with every step he made towards it. He leaned on the sink, staring into his own faded blue eyes. The wrinkles around them looked more prominent, the bags a little darker; he looked tired.
I am tired…God…what a day. I think I might retire from disaster scenes. I'm just too old for this. Leave it to the younger guys…
He jumped as the door opened, his head snapping up. His eyes narrowed as they locked on Culpepper's.
Great. My favourite asshole.
"Grissom," Culpepper nodded. It suddenly struck Grissom that the police force greeting of nods was really quite odd. He pushed himself up from the ceramic sink, his reflection receding from the view of the mirror as he advanced towards the younger man.
"Culpepper…" His voice was low, soft, and unwavering. He had to take care of this particular problem before anything bad could happen. Well, happen to him at least.
"Listen -- about today," Culpepper started, obviously unnerved under Grissom's constant gaze.
"Yes, Rick. About today. You nearly killed us all." Grissom stated, his fingers tightly grasping his towel.
Culpepper chuckled, "Everyone ended up okay, and that's what matters, right?"
"Since when did you care about everyone?"
"Oh, come on Grissom..." Culpepper said, pretending to joke with him. Clearly, it wasn't working.
"The only thing you're upset about is the 'minor setback' in the recovery," Grissom said, his eyes never leaving Culpepper's.
"No, really. I'm sorry it happened. And I'd appreciate it if you just happened to forget the cause of that unfortunate accident," Culpepper said, his voice sounding eerily like Ecklie's when he was planning something particularily nasty. Grissom advanced a step.
"Forget? Forget? You expect me to have to fight for my own life like that and forget what happened? Oh no, Culpepper. I'll never forget that." Grissom said, still advancing slowly. Culpepper had started to retreat beyond the door and towards the back wall of the bathrooms. The threatening side of Grissom had popped up again, and his presence seemed to take up the entire room.
"Grissom…Let's just think this over for a minute…"
"I've had enough of thinking."
Culpepper chuckled uneasily, raising his hands in a 'surrender' gesture. His chuckle sounded much more like a wheeze. He'd finally realized that trying to reason with Grissom just wasn't going to work. That, and the fact that he was only a few feet away from the wall with nowhere to go. He'd heard stories about Grissom. He knew that when provoked, he could be quite voilent.
Definately time for Plan B...Culpepper thought.
"Let's just put it this way then. You don't say anything about what happened in the forest today, and I don't split up you and Sidle like a good supervisor…" He said, reverting to blackmail. At the moment, with Grissom bearing down on him like a bear, he'd do anything.
Grissom snapped. He'd had enough.He grabbed Culpepper by the collar and shoved him hard against the wall.
"You are one fucking sleaze ball, you know that? I've seen nicer criminals than you," Grissom said, his voice ringing in the empty bathroom. Culpepper now looked petrified.
He had reason to be.
"You're not only going to refrain from separating Sara and I, you are also not going to tell..." Grissom voice got so quiet Culpepper almost had to strain to hear it, "…Another. Living. Soul. About us. What goes on in my private life has nothing to do with you, and I suggest you leave it that way, or I'll make it my personal objective to get your ass handed to you on a platter...I'm a very deticated man, Culpepper. Don't test me."
Grissom pulled back for a second like he was going to let him go, but slammed him one last time against the wall, watching as Culpepper fought to keep his balance.
"And whether or not I tell anyone about what happened today is at my discretion," Grissom said quietly and left, slamming the door behind him.
He stalked across the lawn outside the bathrooms, the anger seeping from him into the cool night air. He found it was too hard to be angry now. He was emotionally drained; he had no energy to be sad, angry, worried, or thankful. He just wanted to lie down and sleep.
So when he got back to the tent, he did just that.
a/n: PSST. Two more reviews to 100!!! -hint hint-
