[just a quick little note, drunken Grissom, and sorry for not updating
sooner. G]
The doorbell's melodious tone echoed through the house, and she rose from the couch to answer it, hoping Eddie and Lindsay were still having a great time at. . .wherever it was they were. She loved her off-weekends, and as much as she loved her daughter, breaks were good.
Catherine opened the door slowly to find Grissom standing on her doorstep, head hanging, a half-pint of vodka in one hand and an orange prescription bottle clutched in the other. "Hi," he stated, not sounding a bit drunk, even though the vodka bottle was half empty. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," she said, taken aback. Catherine moved aside to let him pass through the entryway, as she closed the door, he sighed heavily and dropped his frame onto the couch.
"Where's Lindsay?" Grissom asked, surveying his surroundings with a frown.
"With her rat-bastard father," she answered. "At least he came and got her this time."
He nodded, took another drag from the bottle. His fingers remained firmly clenched around the prescription container, he held it as if he was holding onto the one thing keeping him on the ground.
"What's going on?" she asked. "It's not every day you show up with alcohol and drugs asking to come in."
"What's going on?" he repeated, a wry look coming over him. "What's going on is that I'm old and my younger wife's addicted to painkillers! Nothing terribly special, I just thought I'd share, because I kicked myself out of the apartment two days ago and suspended Sara indefinitely." He smiled a big, sarcastic smile at this. "Oh, I'm just peachy, thanks for asking, and I'm only peachy 'cause of Sara's girly peach shower gel. There's my wife for ya, can't hardly get her in a damn skirt for our wedding but she smells like peaches all damn day, only strong because of her little pills. . ."
Catherine listened to the babble without comment, even when he scowled and looked at the prescription bottle and mumbled, "Fuckers are as evil as Barnes, what they do to her. What they do to me." Glazed blue rocketed up to meet her clear blue eyes. "I almost hit her, almost. Wanted to see the fear in her eyes reflecting what's in mine, wanted her to see what seeing her drugged up does to me, wanted to knock some sense back where I know it's hiding. But I couldn't, it's Sara." He squinted at her. "You won't understand, though, you don't get it. I taught her everything I know but I couldn't teach her to leave, and I don't know when but somehow, maybe Barnes fucked her up, I don't know, but somehow she's lost all her sense and she's not Sara anymore."
He sighed. "I want my Sara back, you know? Wry, crazy Sara. Brilliant, unscarred Sara. Pre-Barnes Sara. Where did she go, huh? Trapped in that Georgian basement with her Pre-Barnes blood, I guess. . .I mean, honestly, Catherine. This," he shook the bottle of pills, "this is why I don't commit, okay? Because I just end up hurting and alone in the end, drunk at my friend's house when all I want is Sara and she's all drugged up so I don't want that but I want . . .her. She gave me a black eye weeks ago but I want her and I think I need her like I never needed anything before and I'm pretty sure I like her and I know I love her."
"Gil. . ."
A drunken finger jabbed in her face. "Don't you 'Gil. . .' me. I want my wife back. I want my life back, okay? Until you can give me that, don't you dare talk to me with that patronizing tone."
She gave him a disbelieving smile. "Look, remember when I said that it takes a bad marriage to recognize a good one? Yours is a good one. Don't screw it up. This is your mess, Grissom, and I'm tired of acting like your mother when it comes to your relationship with Sara. It's your mess. You clean it up."
"I can't!" he exclaimed. "I don't know how!"
Catherine shook her head, chuckling incredulously. "Well, you better figure it out, Grissom."
"Hey, Grissom," Nick greeted, stealing a glance behind him to see if Sara was coming in. Not seeing her, he asked, "Where's Sara?"
Grissom froze. "Uh. . ." He couldn't make the words come out, his mind drawing a blank when it came to how to explain Sara's suspension. Nick and Warrick didn't know about the pills, and as far as they knew, her trip to her parent's house was to use up vacation time.
"She's sick," Catherine injected from the door. Grissom turned to her, a brief look of surprise crossing his face.
"Sick?" Warrick asked. "I didn't think Super Sara got sick."
"Well, even angels fall, Warrick," she shrugged. "We'll be shorthanded for a while, okay?"
Catherine started to leave the room, saying, "You boys play nice. I'll be back shortly."
"Wait, wait, wait. Where are you going?" Nicky asked.
"To check up on Sara, see if she needs anything," Catherine explained.
"Why can't Grissom do it?" Warrick inquired, glancing at their frozen supervisor.
Because he can't move, Warrick, she thought. Hello. "Because he has to stay here with you two. Someone's got to work."
The doorbell's melodious tone echoed through the house, and she rose from the couch to answer it, hoping Eddie and Lindsay were still having a great time at. . .wherever it was they were. She loved her off-weekends, and as much as she loved her daughter, breaks were good.
Catherine opened the door slowly to find Grissom standing on her doorstep, head hanging, a half-pint of vodka in one hand and an orange prescription bottle clutched in the other. "Hi," he stated, not sounding a bit drunk, even though the vodka bottle was half empty. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," she said, taken aback. Catherine moved aside to let him pass through the entryway, as she closed the door, he sighed heavily and dropped his frame onto the couch.
"Where's Lindsay?" Grissom asked, surveying his surroundings with a frown.
"With her rat-bastard father," she answered. "At least he came and got her this time."
He nodded, took another drag from the bottle. His fingers remained firmly clenched around the prescription container, he held it as if he was holding onto the one thing keeping him on the ground.
"What's going on?" she asked. "It's not every day you show up with alcohol and drugs asking to come in."
"What's going on?" he repeated, a wry look coming over him. "What's going on is that I'm old and my younger wife's addicted to painkillers! Nothing terribly special, I just thought I'd share, because I kicked myself out of the apartment two days ago and suspended Sara indefinitely." He smiled a big, sarcastic smile at this. "Oh, I'm just peachy, thanks for asking, and I'm only peachy 'cause of Sara's girly peach shower gel. There's my wife for ya, can't hardly get her in a damn skirt for our wedding but she smells like peaches all damn day, only strong because of her little pills. . ."
Catherine listened to the babble without comment, even when he scowled and looked at the prescription bottle and mumbled, "Fuckers are as evil as Barnes, what they do to her. What they do to me." Glazed blue rocketed up to meet her clear blue eyes. "I almost hit her, almost. Wanted to see the fear in her eyes reflecting what's in mine, wanted her to see what seeing her drugged up does to me, wanted to knock some sense back where I know it's hiding. But I couldn't, it's Sara." He squinted at her. "You won't understand, though, you don't get it. I taught her everything I know but I couldn't teach her to leave, and I don't know when but somehow, maybe Barnes fucked her up, I don't know, but somehow she's lost all her sense and she's not Sara anymore."
He sighed. "I want my Sara back, you know? Wry, crazy Sara. Brilliant, unscarred Sara. Pre-Barnes Sara. Where did she go, huh? Trapped in that Georgian basement with her Pre-Barnes blood, I guess. . .I mean, honestly, Catherine. This," he shook the bottle of pills, "this is why I don't commit, okay? Because I just end up hurting and alone in the end, drunk at my friend's house when all I want is Sara and she's all drugged up so I don't want that but I want . . .her. She gave me a black eye weeks ago but I want her and I think I need her like I never needed anything before and I'm pretty sure I like her and I know I love her."
"Gil. . ."
A drunken finger jabbed in her face. "Don't you 'Gil. . .' me. I want my wife back. I want my life back, okay? Until you can give me that, don't you dare talk to me with that patronizing tone."
She gave him a disbelieving smile. "Look, remember when I said that it takes a bad marriage to recognize a good one? Yours is a good one. Don't screw it up. This is your mess, Grissom, and I'm tired of acting like your mother when it comes to your relationship with Sara. It's your mess. You clean it up."
"I can't!" he exclaimed. "I don't know how!"
Catherine shook her head, chuckling incredulously. "Well, you better figure it out, Grissom."
"Hey, Grissom," Nick greeted, stealing a glance behind him to see if Sara was coming in. Not seeing her, he asked, "Where's Sara?"
Grissom froze. "Uh. . ." He couldn't make the words come out, his mind drawing a blank when it came to how to explain Sara's suspension. Nick and Warrick didn't know about the pills, and as far as they knew, her trip to her parent's house was to use up vacation time.
"She's sick," Catherine injected from the door. Grissom turned to her, a brief look of surprise crossing his face.
"Sick?" Warrick asked. "I didn't think Super Sara got sick."
"Well, even angels fall, Warrick," she shrugged. "We'll be shorthanded for a while, okay?"
Catherine started to leave the room, saying, "You boys play nice. I'll be back shortly."
"Wait, wait, wait. Where are you going?" Nicky asked.
"To check up on Sara, see if she needs anything," Catherine explained.
"Why can't Grissom do it?" Warrick inquired, glancing at their frozen supervisor.
Because he can't move, Warrick, she thought. Hello. "Because he has to stay here with you two. Someone's got to work."