A/N: A new story-Enjoy!
A Curious Combination
(The third and final short story about Sara and Gil Grissom's life following their departure in the series finale in 2015.)
Early spring, 2016
Chapter 1
In the distance, seagulls dived and circled, their feathers turning pink in the low sun. Faint shouts of delight came from a grassy area near the building—children having fun tossing popcorn into the clear sky for the birds.
Three people, a woman and two men, climbed out of a dark car and walked along a wide sidewalk lined with brightly colored flowers planted at the edge and spreading for several feet. The massive complex ahead of them seemed to dazzle in the setting sun but none of the three seemed to notice the flowers or the building; they were intent on a specific destination.
Heels of the woman clicked rapidly as they crossed a spacious portico; one of the men, dressed in a dark suit, shifted the box in his hands. The younger man glanced back at the long black car that was pulling away from the curb. He was still impressed with the trip in the private jet and the airport pick up by a chauffeur-driven car.
The glass doors slid open with barely a wisp of sound and the three stepped inside a high atrium with art work dangling from the ceiling. Hesitating for a moment, Catherine Willows led the way to a kiosk and as the two men looked over her shoulder, she quickly tapped the screen. The machine made clicking sounds that resulted in three name tags appearing in a slot.
"How'd you know to do that?" Jim Brass asked.
She laughed, saying, "Things have changed, Jim. Everything is electronic now—especially hospital visits." She waved the slips of paper for the two men to take and said, "Sara had put our names in as visitors."
Glancing at Greg Sanders, Brass lifted his eyebrows and got a shrug in response.
It took several minutes to navigate signs to the bank of elevators for the correct area of the hospital and once the elevator doors opened, the three were met by another level of security, checking IDs and name tags, before a secured door was opened to a bright hallway.
A sign announced this was the maternal-fetal care unit. Nurses sat at a long desk watching tiers of monitors and screens; none lifted eyes to the new visitors. There were no sounds of newborn babies crying or bouquets of balloons and flowers announcing gender or congratulations to parents.
"She's been here eight days," Greg whispered. "It—it's so quiet."
Sara was here to wait as she'd explained to Catherine, to be monitored and checked constantly for best possible outcome for the Grissom twins. She had called Catherine the day before with a special request.
"Here she is," Catherine said as she raised her hand to knock on the door.
A few minutes passed before the door opened and the surprised voice of Gil Grissom could be heard at the nurses' station.
...Nine days earlier…
The obstetrical specialist was the third one in a procession of specialists to consult with the Grissoms for this scheduled appointment. He was serious but not ponderously so and agreed with the previous consulting physicians.
"You both know twins are always a special pregnancy—and with a single placenta, labor and delivery become even more…" He paused.
"Serious." Sara said. For weeks, the physicians had monitored her 'advanced maternal pregnancy' and she knew the intimate details of possible problems with monochorionic twins.
"Yes, but your boys have almost a fifty/fifty share of the placenta—that's good. Both appear to be gaining weight—that's good. However, I think my colleagues will agree—you need bed rest and—and around-the clock monitoring." The physician continued, explaining details that Sara already knew.
She lay, listening to the calm and composed voice, watching her husband's concerned face.
"What must I do?" she asked.
The physician almost smiled before saying, "We will admit you to the maternity unit where you'll remain in bed most of the day—up a few hours to shower, walk around a bit, all while monitors keep a constant 'watch' on what is happening and hopefully, you make it for another two weeks."
Grissom took Sara's hand and asked, "What can I do?"
"Keep her entertained and quiet—books, music, cards, movies—the rooms in the maternity unit are well-equipped." A sound that Sara thought was a chuckle came from the doctor. He said, "Nicer than the apartment I had as a med student—a second bed for you to use if you decide to spend the night, a small refrigerator for snacks—it's nice, but you'll both be ready to leave after a few days." His face made a slight grimace before he added, "Most people find the time extremely boring." He shook Sara's hand first, said a few more reassuring words, and turned to Grissom, saying, "Be at the hospital tomorrow around noon. Maternity-fetal unit—they know to expect you."
Turning back to Sara, placing his hand on her shoulder, he said, "You'll be fine—your babies are doing well—this part is—is the quiet before all the excitement arrives."
The next day, the admission process was surprisingly swift. The admitting nurse was brisk, no-nonsense, and helped Sara settle into a room that was more like a hotel suite than hospital room. Near the window, a sleek unit along the wall connected to monitors at the nursing station; most of the monitors used wireless technology which meant Sara was not bound by leads and lines.
"But you are bedbound except for bathroom use, a short shower, and a ten-minute walk every hour or so," said the nurse, who had introduced herself as Cindy. "Any time you are out of bed, someone needs to be in the room with you." Nodding in Grissom's direction, she said, "Call a nurse if your husband or friend isn't with you—that's why we are here—any time."
The first three days went by with surprising swiftness as Sara and Grissom became familiar with living in a new place where nurses appeared with predictable regularity and at least one physician visited once a day.
They watched a series of videos for parents of premature twins covering everything from bed rest to home care after delivery. They knew what to expect but the reality of leaving their newborns in the hospital after Sara was discharged caused tears in Sara's eyes.
By the fourth day, it was Gil Grissom who experienced periods of 'hospital fever' as he paced the hallway or tossed in the narrow bed at night or lost interest in his book before reading ten pages. He made no progress on the research work he was involved in. He worried silently about things he had no control over, concerned by thoughts of his future as a father and husband; anxious about the days ahead.
On the morning of the sixth day, Sara encouraged him to leave. "Go home, Gil. I really will be fine! Spend the night in our bed. Tomorrow, bring a few books from my stack and a couple of movies we haven't seen in a while."
His fingers came together in a nervous twitch; he did not want to leave her. His bed-bound wife was so heavy yet she remained serene, unruffled by nurses, physicians, housekeepers. They had prepared for this waiting period; she was the one who remained amiable and sociable with everyone while he felt the room was closing in on him, the hallway was airless, and, not for the first time, felt like an old man in the presence of the other men who populated the floor.
"I'll be back tonight," he said.
She insisted, "Sleep at home tonight. I'll be fine."
Less than two hours later, he returned. Sara knew he'd spent most of the time in traffic.
The next morning, she'd sent a message and before noon, Catherine Willows had responded with "I'll be there with Jim."
A/N: Another chapter soon! Thanks for reading. And, as always, we appreciate hearing from you! Long live GSR!