MIGRAINES AND POPCORN
His migraine was throbbing. It had been brewing since the start of his shift, and since the pills he took when he left the office were not giving any hint of effect tonight, it had slowly escalated. He only had about an hour left, but by now the pain was pulsating so hard through the left part of his head and behind his eyes that he couldn't take it anymore. He had been out the better part of the night at a crime scene with Nick, and now he was supposed to meet Al in the morgue. Instead, he walked back to his office, closing the blinds and the door behind him. He needed the dark. Quiet, cool darkness. He slipped slowly onto the couch, and laid down, with his head resting on the armrest. The nausea came in waves.
Ever since Nicks kidnapping a few months back his migraines had been more frequent, and more intense. It had been so bad a couple of nights that he hadn't been able to drive himself back home after shift. He'd spent the following day on the couch he was curled up on right now until the pain had receded enough for him to put his sunglasses on and walk out into the parking garage. His colleagues on the dayshift probably thought he'd pulled a double when they saw him walking out of there. He hadn't told anyone, but he suspected Catherine knew. She had a way of knowing more about people than they knew about themselves. And she had tried to ask him about it a few times lately, but he'd managed to brush her off.
Suddenly he noticed the door to his office softly opening, and he heard the sound of footsteps walking in. Whoever it was closed the door behind them as softly as it was opened. He desperately wanted to be left alone, but the pain was so bad he didn't even have the energy to get up and throw the intruder out. "Unless it's life or death I'm going to have to ask you to come back tomorrow" he dryly stated, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't have the energy to pretend he was fine, and didn't really care who knew at this point. "Griss…". Her voice was soft and tender, and he'd recognize it anywhere at any time. "I just wanted to see if you're okay. Al told me you never showed up in the morgue, and you weren't answering your phone. I was worried…" It was Sara. He didn't say anything, he just managed a grunt of sorts, and tried to sit up. The effort caused another wave of nausea, and in an attempt to not throw up he gave up and laid back down.
"Relax" she said, as she walked over to the couch and reached down to softly touch his forehead. Her fingers were cold and it felt so good against his warm skin. He let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Normally he would have stopped her, like he always did when she came too close. But now, all he could think about was how badly he wanted her to keep going. Her fingers on his forehead was the only thing that had given him a release from the pain all night. It was better than any painkiller. She seemed to notice how his body relaxed to her touch and pulled up a chair that was next to the couch so she could sit down. She placed it at the end of the couch positioning herself so his head was almost in her lap. She started stroking his forehead with her fingers, slowly massaging, working her way up into the scalp and to the back of his neck, and then repeating the pattern. She could see the creases around his eyes relax a little, and his body sinking deeper into the couch. They sat like that for almost half an hour without speaking a word.
As the pain started to dull a little, he was struggling to find the right words. "Thank you…" he said, while he slowly managed to sit up and open his eyes. His voice was raw and naked, and he kept staring at his own hands lying idle in his lap. Like so many time before she didn't know what he was thinking, but she was expecting him to shut down. To shut them down, like he always did. But something seemed different about him, something she couldn't really put her finger on. He slowly turned his head and looked at her without speaking. She had known for a while that his migraines had been tormenting him. It wasn't hard to see. But it was horrible to watch. She hated seeing him like this, not being able to do anything. "Come on, I'll take you home" she heard herself say. As soon as the words left her lips she regretted them. She had promised herself she would stop doing this. Setting herself up for rejection. Putting him in a position he had made it clear on more than one occasion he did not want to be in. He must have seen the flash of remorse in her eyes, because he immediately reached out and took her hand linking his fingers in with hers. "I'd like that" he said, this time with no hesitation.
The 20 minute drive back to his town house was made in silence. When she parked the car outside and said "Goodnight", he didn't respond. He took her hand again. "Do you want to come in?" he said as his eyes went from their hands to her eyes. She could see the pain from the migraine still blurring his vision, but there was something else in there as well. Something she didn't dare hope of, but had always dreamed of. "I'd like that…" she said, as she saw a smile spread on his face for the first time that night… They walked in and he locked the door behind them…
TBC – and then it might get smutty…