Relativity - by kyrdwyn
Rated: R - adult themes, etc.
Spoilers: none to the series
Synopsis: Gil gets a call from an old friend that causes him to confront someone from his past.
Disclaimer: I own all original characters in the story. Gil and the CSI crew are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis, other companies, and the actors who bring them to life.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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A young girl, her blonde hair glistening in the Los Angeles sunlight, was outside the white ranch style house. She had a butterfly net in her hands and was examining something inside it. She looked up when the SUV pulled into the driveway, her face never changing from the intensely curious expression.
Gil stepped out of the car and smiled at the girl. She didn't smile back, clearly hearing in her mind the parental warnings of "never talk to strangers." He hesitated, not wanting to be rude to the child, but not wanting to put her into a dilemma.
He was about to inquire if this was the Raven house when the door opened and Julia came racing out, followed by a man with the child's blonde hair. His brother-in-law, he surmised from the way he grabbed Julia and pulled her to him to kiss her. Gil was shocked by the open display of affection between them.
The little girl tugged at Julia's blouse and when Julia looked down, she pointed toward Gil. Both adults turned to look and shock crossed Julia's face. "Gil?" she asked incredulously.
"I should have called first," he said hesitantly, apologetically. Julia stepped away from the man and shook her head.
"No. No! I'm glad you came," she said. She pushed her hair behind her ears and glanced around the yard, looking as uncertain as he felt. The man next to her touched her arm. She smiled at him.
"Gil, I'd like you to meet my husband Stephen Raven. Stephen, this is my older brother Gil."
Julia was using sign language to communicate with her husband. Gil quirked an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Stephen stepped forward to offer his hand and Gil took it, liking Julia's husband on sight. "Nice to meet you," Gil said and signed.
Julia drew the little girl to her side. "This is our daughter, Marissa. Marissa, this is your uncle Gil."
The girl smiled shyly at him. He smiled back. Stephen nudged Julia. Why don't I take Marissa to the store with me and let you and your brother talk? He signed.
Julia nodded. Gil watched her kiss her husband and child, the latter waving at Gil. He waved back. When they were gone, he turned to Julia. She saw the look in his eyes and knew what he was going to say.
"She looks almost exactly like Mom." He said it softly.
Julia nodded. "She does. But she has your interest in bugs," she added with a grimace.
He smiled wryly. "I bet you love that."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah. Like I loved the bugs you would dine with at the breakfast table and the spider you put in my bed that one time."
"Shouldn't have criticized my choice of names for my spider."
"Only because you wouldn't name it Charlotte. Why was that?"
"Because you suggested it."
"That's not a good reason."
"It is when you're fourteen."
"And your pesky little sister wants you to name a spider after her favorite book?"
"Exactly."
Julia smiled. "Come on in, Gil."
He followed her into the house, noticing that it was as nearly immaculate as his was. She led him into the kitchen. He accepted her offer of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. She took the seat opposite him, the table a barrier between them.
"That was the last time I can remember you doing something like that," Julia remarked.
Gil winced. "Dad…wasn't amused by the spider bit."
Julia paused with her cup halfway to her mouth. "He didn't…." she said softly, questioningly. Gil nodded, not looking at her. He winced from the phantom pain that crawled across his skin.
Julia saw the wince and shuddered in sympathy. Thomas Grissom had been a hard man. He had not tolerated deviance from his expectations. Rebellion was either physically or emotionally smacked down. Gil, being the son, had gotten more of the physical punishments than Julia had. But the depth of psychological cruelty had been vicious enough to scar both of them in a way the physical couldn't. It had left both of them unwilling, hell - unable, to form the kind of emotional bonds that most siblings had. And caused them to equate love with their father's behavior. It was the same with physical contact. Or so Julia's therapist had told her. After Mary Grissom's death, Julia had needed someone to talk to. Gil wouldn't talk to her at all, and she and Stephen had just started dating. She couldn't burden him with her problems. Not then.
Julia looked down at her coffee. Thomas Grissom's only saving grace, in her opinion, was that he had adored and worshiped his wife. He'd never raised a hand to her, never yelled at her - in speech or in sign. To his children, it seemed like he reserved all his love for his wife and thought Gil and Julia were nothing more than programmable robots. He was stingy any sort of display of affection for them. Gil had used his natural curiosity and desire to learn as a way to gain his father's approval. Thomas Grissom had been thrilled with his son's academic performance and encouraged him to greater achievements. It had been the only sort of paternal affection Gil had gotten. When Julia had been born, Gil had been seven years old, already ahead of most of his classmates. He'd even been on his way to blowing up the house a few times - much to his father's delight. He would brag to his friends about how smart his son was. Those friends never saw the depth of cruelty used to encourage that intelligence.
Julia had been a lot different than Gil. She had the same curiosity and the desire to learn, but her gifts lay in areas other than academics. She had good grades, but not the same as her brother. Their father constantly compared the two of them to Julia's detriment, in the hopes of spurring Julia on. As starved for paternal affection as Gil had been, Julia initially threw herself into her studies and tried to measure up. But eventually, when studying more didn't bring home the grades that would please their father, Julia stopped trying to measure up and rebelled. She let her studies go, though she never got anything below a C. She participated in non-academic after school activities like drama and soccer - which drove Thomas Grissom nuts. He tried to cut off her activities, refusing to sign the permission slips. Mary had signed them instead, and he couldn't bring himself to go against his wife. Instead, he'd belittled Julia's athletic and artistic achievements every chance he got. Thomas Grissom had wanted two academically brilliant children. He had seen Julia's activities as 'fun and games' - something that had no place in his world. Her high school soccer team won the State Championship two years in a row and father never congratulated her. He was glad the season was over so Julia could return to her studies and bring her grades back up to Gil's level.
Even affection between his children was frowned upon. Thomas Grissom hadn't approved of natural sibling teasing and quarrels. Julia had known that their father had gone ballistic over Gil putting a spider in Julia's bed. It wasn't a dangerous one - Gil was smarter than that. Still, the public upbraiding Gil had gotten left a lasting impression on both children. It was only now, thirty-three years afterward, that Julia discovered Gil had been beaten for the prank. He had never said a word to her. Julia would bet her medical degree on their mother not knowing either.
"God, dad was a bastard."
Gil's head snapped up and he looked at her with shock. "Julia…."
"What? Oh come on, Gil. Don't tell me you never thought of him in those terms. He deliberately tried to mold the two of us into the perfect children - his perfect children. You know what? It appears to have worked with you. Yes, you're brilliant and accomplished and you have a Ph.D. You also have no life outside your job, no human connections. Except for Dawn," she said quietly. "If you were anything like me, falling in love scared you half to death because you were afraid of turning into dad. The entire time I was pregnant with Marissa, I worried. I remembered all my fears and I didn't want to inflict that on my children. I wanted them to grow up loved, wanted, and be individuals."
"Marissa looks very happy, Julia."
She smiled, a very satisfied maternal smile. "Neither Stephen nor I had a happy childhood, and we wanted to avoid the same mistakes with Marissa. Hearing you say she looks happy, well, that means a lot."
Gil nodded, sipping at his coffee. Julia set her cup down and studied him. He hadn't changed all that much in the past ten years, except for the eyes. They had always been guarded, hiding what he was thinking. The glasses he now wore reinforced that aloofness, but Julia could see the pain that flickered through the depths.
"Dawn must have been special," Julia commented, inviting Gil to talk about her.
He nodded. "She was."
Julia waited, but her brother stayed silent. She sighed. "Gil, why did you come here?"
He looked up at her in surprise. "You said we needed to talk, Julia."
"Emphasis on the we, Gil. It's been ten years since you and I spoke. Even then it was more like an argument. I don't want us to go through another ten years of not knowing what's happening in each other's lives. Did you know," she asked him, tilting her head, "that if anything were to happen to Stephen or me, you would become Marissa's guardian? His family is more messed up than ours was. We couldn't imagine one of them trying to raise her."
"Julia…"
"I know. You can't imagine trying to raise her either. But I think you would make a good father, Gil. And I can honestly say I think Marissa would be happier with you."
He was quiet for a moment. "Thank you."
"We've lost so much time, Gil. Dad really screwed us up to the point where we couldn't even go to each other for help. When mom died, I wanted nothing more than to talk to you, but I couldn't get past those barriers. I hated you for so long, because I couldn't live up to your brilliance, and Dad never wasted an opportunity to tell me."
Gil frowned. "I hated you for not trying to, for leaving me to take Dad's anger." He shifted in his seat, feeling the heavy hand of his father against his skin. It was part of the reason he always wore long sleeves. He'd had to in high school, to hide the bruises. He wore them now when his nightmares caused him to awaken thinking the purple marks of his father's "affection" were still there.
"Whatever's happened in the past, whatever we felt about each other then, we're all we have left of our family, Gil." Julia's soft, tearful voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up to find her watching him. "I never asked you to my wedding or to Marissa's christening. Family moments - you should have been there to give me away, to act at Marissa's godfather. But I couldn't pick up the phone to call you. You lost the woman you wanted to marry, and I couldn't be there to help you, to offer what solace I could." Tears were running down Julia's cheeks as she spoke. "I don't want to miss anymore. My biggest fear is hearing through the coroner's grapevine that a CSI in Las Vegas was killed, and finding out that CSI was you. I don't want to be left with 'what ifs' and 'if only's' and guilt over not reaching out to you sooner. I can't image you want that either."
Julia grabbed a napkin from the holder and wiped her cheeks. Gil remained silent, her words still echoing. She was right; he didn't want that. After Dawn's death, he had thought about calling Julia many times, especially during those sleepless nights. He could not bring himself to pick up the phone, no matter how much he longed to hear his sister's voice.
Julia suddenly reached out and grabbed Gil's hand. He looked at her in surprise. She appeared to be taken aback by her action as well. The last time he could remember Julia touching him was at his high school graduation, a quick hug after the ceremony. Even at their mother's funeral, they hadn't comforted each other with a hug or even a handclasp.
"I don't want to lose you again. I know we can't overcome thirty years of hell in a few minutes, but we can at least make a start? Please?"
Gil looked at her. He nodded, and Julia gave a small smile. He smiled back.
Julia pulled her hand away and poured more coffee for both of them. "I guess, older brother, that you would like the run down on my husband."
The corner of Gil's mouth quirked in a small smile. "You know me, always curious."
Julia smiled and was about to start talking when the doorbell rang. "Excuse me," she said, getting up and leaving the room. Gil sat back and sipped at his coffee, looking around the cheerful room. The walls were pale yellow with a flowery border. Papers on the refrigerator caught his eye, and he got up to take a closer look at the childlike artwork. Marissa's drawings were prominently displayed, and while the renderings lacked fine details, they were full of imagination - dragons and unicorns, birds and bugs, and one of two adult stick figures and a child stick figure in front of a house.
"Gayle, I believe you've already met Gil Grissom." Julia's voice sounded behind him, and Gil turned to see her leading Detective Martin into the kitchen. She looked surprised at seeing the Las Vegas CSI in Julia's kitchen.
"Well isn't this cozy?" she asked.
Gil raised an eyebrow as he straightened from his examination of the artwork. "Cozy?" he inquired.
"LA Medical Examiner, Las Vegas CSI having coffee? Get tired of your schoolteacher?"
"Can it, Gayle. He's my brother."
"You don't have a brother, Julia."
"Yes, I do. I just never talk about him. Now what's so important that you feel the need to drop by on my day off?"
Gayle looked from Julia to Gil. "Wait a second. You never told me he was your brother when I asked you to look into his background."
Gil looked over at Julia with amusement. "Oh?"
Julia shrugged. "Coroner grapevine."
"Ah."
"So, Gayle, business?"
The detective looked like she wanted to say something more, but moved on to the reason for her visit. "I was typing all this up for the D.A. Found a problem in Swenson's confession - he lied."
Both Gil and Julia looked stunned. Julia snatched the folder out of Gayle's hands. "What do you mean - lied?"
"Swenson told me that he suffocated Carlyle before dragging him into Jensen's classroom."
"Carlyle died from a heroin overdose," Julia said absently as she read the statement.
"Exactly. I didn't have your full post-mortem when he confessed, so I took it at face value. So why did he confess?"
"Perhaps to protect someone else?" Gil mused from where he was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee.
Gayle shot him a look. "I don't recall asking for your opinion, Mr. Grissom."
"Still, he's right. He could be covering for someone else."
"Okay, I'll bite. So, any ideas, Mr. Grissom?"
"Well," he said, sitting down at the table near the two women, "from what Julia said, Swenson claimed to have killed Carlyle because the latter was having an affair with Swenson's wife. It's possible that he's covering for his wife."
Gayle tilted her head to one side. "I don't buy it. His wife was cheating on him, she kills her lover, and he covers for her?"
Julia shrugged. "It's not like we haven't seen it before, Gayle."
The detective shook her head. "I don't know. I talked to the wife. She seemed upset that her lover was dead."
"No offense, Detective, but I have seen some very good liars in interrogation rooms," Gil pointed out. "And there are other suspects. Carlyle's wife, for instance."
"Why would Swenson cover for her?" Julia asked. "Unless you're saying the school is Melrose Place and he was sleeping with Carlyle's wife?"
Gil looked from Julia to Gayle, his eyebrows furrowed. "Melrose what?"
Both women looked at him, then at each other and chuckled. "Never mind, Gil," Julia said. "Basically, we're expressing our disbelief at such a love quadrangle."
Gil leaned forward, frowning. "Why is it so unbelievable? Husband cheats on wife. Wife wants revenge - so she cheats, and finds a sympathetic lover in the other wronged spouse."
Gayle leaned back and looked at Gil. "When you put it that way, it does sound plausible. And we can't verify Gina Carlyle's alibi. She claims to have been shopping, but there are no credit card receipts. I had a few cops check the stores she says she was at, no one remembers her. At least Ms. Jensen had a better story than that."
Gil stopped with his coffee mug almost at his mouth. He peered over the rim at Detective Martin, eyebrow quirked. His eyes were challenging almost. Gayle returned the stare calmly. Julia stirred her coffee and waited for someone to break the stare. The tension between the two was thick.
Finally Gayle shrugged and looked away. "Natalie Jensen's story was also verifiable, at least the part about the salesman in the paint department."
Gil relaxed a little. So did Julia.
"Was Carlyle killed in the classroom?"
Julia shook her head at Gil's question. "No, he was killed elsewhere and dragged into the classroom." She looked at Gayle. "Did you ever find out where he was killed?"
"No," she said slowly. "Checked the entire school. Someone either cleaned up really good or we missed it." Gayle pulled out her cell phone and started dialing.
Julia turned to Gil. "I hate to say this, Gil, but if this is turning into an official inquiry…well, with you being Natalie's friend…" she let her voice trail off.
Gil understood. His involvement was already on the line of 'interference', and anything more would look bad for Natalie. He got up, Julia rising as well. She walked him to the front door. He stopped before leaving, pulling his own business card out of his wallet. "Here. Work is the best place to reach me." He hesitated like he wanted to say more, then leaned down to kiss Julia on the cheek, startling them both. "Let's keep in touch. To hell with the old man," he added with a smile tracing across his lips.
Julia smiled back, waiting until Gil was in his car and out of sight before closing her front door. She held the card he had given her clutched tightly in her hand.
* * * * *
He hadn't been here in three years. Not since watching the groundskeepers lower the casket into the ground and begin replacing the soil. The cemetery was quiet, peaceful. Rows of flat plates marked where friends and loved ones lay. Bouquets of flowers were placed near some, reflecting visits.
Flowers were in front of Dawn's marker. Natalie must have been by recently. Gil sat down on the grass and traced the writing with a finger. Each letter of her name was given attention. He ran the side of his thumb over her last name. It was the wrong name, to him. It should read Dawn Marie Grissom.
The diagnosis had come three months into their engagement. They had been planning the wedding - meeting with the priest and settling on guests. It wasn't going to be a big ceremony - her friends and colleagues, Natalie as maid of honor, a few friends of his from the lab, one of them as best man. The wedding was a few weeks away, but Dawn hadn't been feeling well. A routine trip to the doctor found something odd. He sent Dawn to a specialist. They found cancer. Too advanced for surgery, for treatment. The doctor could barely bring himself to tell Dawn and Gil the dire prognosis. A miracle was the best they could hope for.
Gil sighed. Dawn had changed that day, learning she was so ill that science could do nothing for her. Her illness had taken an emotional toll on both of them. He couldn't accept losing her to something they had no control over. It was heartbreaking to see her slip away from him, little by little.
After a few weeks, there was one bad night where he'd come home to find Dawn crying over her fate. She had insisted that they call off the wedding when she realized her condition was terminal. He had reluctantly agreed, but it went against his heart. That morning, he'd tried to convince her again to marry him. Her condition didn't matter to him. He loved her. He wanted to marry her, be her husband for as long as he could. If a miracle happened, that would be a blessing. If not, so be it. When Dawn had protested that they had canceled everything, he'd reminded her they were in Las Vegas - they could marry that night. He wanted to.
"God, how I wanted to marry you, Dawn," he whispered, his hand still on the marker. "I didn't care how long we had together. I love you." He felt tears start. "Why, Dawn? Why wouldn't you let me?"
He knew the answer to that question, but it was one he still couldn't accept. Dawn didn't want to get married because she didn't want to make him a widower before the honeymoon was over. She thought it was selfish of her to do that. He desperately tried to convince her that he didn't care. She would smile, tell him he was sweet, but she couldn't do that to him. It became a familiar disagreement. He stopped asking when her illness progressed. The frailer she got, the more he couldn't bring himself to argue with her.
Tears ran down his cheeks. God, how he missed her. Her smile, her laugh, her touch - all the little things about her he had come to depend on. The way she would light up when he walked into the house. Her little routines for grading tests - marking each separate exam and putting them into neat piles based on how many marks she had made so as to make the curve easier to determine. The way she would switch her routines during the summers to be awake when he was, and be able to sleep in his arms during the day.
His tears dripped unheeded onto the ground. "I still look for you, still expect to see you in our bed when I get home. I wake up in the afternoons and listen for your footsteps. I see something in the paper and I want to share it with you. But I can't. I was there, with you, and I still can't…. I just…I need you too much, Dawn. I miss you too much…." His voice cracked and the tears flowed freely. Three years of anger, grief, and loneliness poured out of him as he sat by the woman he loved.
He'd been there, in her hospital room. He'd taken her hand when she'd moved it toward him. Her eyes had been dull from the pain and the medication, but he'd still seen the spark of love in her eyes as she'd looked at him. He hadn't really been aware of Natalie being in the room. All he could see was Dawn. He'd caressed her hair, kissed her forehead, her lips. She'd turned to Natalie, and smiled at her sister. Natalie had kissed her as well. Then Dawn looked back at him. A small smile crossed her lips as she whispered I love you. He'd whispered it back. A few moments later her eyes had closed and her chest eventually went still, not rising to take another breath. Natalie had cried, but he could only stare at Dawn's body, numb. He hadn't been able to cry then, nor at her funeral, nor once in the three years since. It was like he had been in shock and denial since that moment, until this trip to Los Angeles.
Eventually his tears dried up. He let the cool breeze dry his face as he whispered to her. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I felt so helpless. I couldn't save you. Couldn't do for you what I do for others every night - get justice. The only thing it seemed like I could control was marrying you. I still wish you'd have let me. I know why, but it doesn't make it any easier, love." A wedding ring and a marriage certificate would have been a poor substitute for her living, breathing, laughing presence in his life, but they would have been comfort for those long, sleepless nights when he wondered if she had just been a dream. When he missed her so much he doubted his own sanity.
He sighed. "Your sister's right. It's been hard for me to see her as her. Because I can't let go of you." His voice dropped. "But maybe I have to. Maybe I need to move forward. You always wanted me to get in touch with Julia. We've made a start. We can't erase the past, but maybe we can find something close to common ground. And maybe then I can stop hurting Natalie so much."
For long moments he sat there, lost in thought. Memories of the past and hopes for the future swirled around him idly. Finally he kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to the marker in benediction.
"I love you, Dawn."
* * * * *
Natalie was upside down when Gil walked into the living room. He stopped, turning his head to the side. Her stocking feet were up on the wall, and her head was on the carpet. She had a book in her hands, and he didn't think she had noticed him come in. Then she spoke.
"Yes, I'm upside down and reading. Do you have a problem with that?"
He shrugged and sat down next to her. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"Not really. Hey - I live alone. I have to do something to keep me amused."
"I see."
He leaned back against the couch and watched her read for a while. "I talked to Julia," he finally said.
Natalie set her book down and looked up at him. Her eyes were questioning, but she remained silent.
"I think we've made a start. It's hard to tell, after ten years of silence and everything else."
Natalie swung her legs down and rested her body on the floor, her head by Gil's feet. "That's good."
"You were right, you know. About not seeing you as you."
She sat up and looked at him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, not looking at her.
Natalie got up from the floor and sat next to him on the couch. "I know you didn't mean to," she replied just as softly.
"I never really accepted losing Dawn, or Julia for that matter. It meant accepting there were things I couldn't control. I couldn't do that. So I looked for ways to deny it."
Natalie stayed silent. She knew he had used her as a form of denial.
"I want to thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For being you." He looked away as he spoke. She smiled slightly.
"You're welcome." She reached out to take his hand. "Thank you for being here, Gil. You didn't have to drop everything to come down here for me."
"Yes, I did. You're my friend."
Natalie savored that last sentence. It was a true acceptance of her as herself, not Dawn's little sister or a substitute for Julia. She smiled at him.
"I have to get back to Las Vegas soon. Will you be okay?" he asked with concern.
Natalie nodded. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
At that Natalie laughed. "Yes, I'm sure! You go back to your bugs and bodies before someone discovers they can get along without you!"
Gil smiled. "I don't think that will happen."
"You never know. You keep telling me you've got some bright people on your shift."
"You should come to Vegas. Maybe meet some of them," he suggested.
"I am not coming to Vegas so you can play matchmaker, Gil Grissom."
He looked shocked, then smiled warmly. "I want you to come to Vegas because I enjoy your company, Natalie. The last time you were there you never got to see much of the city. I'd like to show you around. Let you meet my friends. Maybe at Christmas?"
Natalie smiled. "I'd like that."
Rated: R - adult themes, etc.
Spoilers: none to the series
Synopsis: Gil gets a call from an old friend that causes him to confront someone from his past.
Disclaimer: I own all original characters in the story. Gil and the CSI crew are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis, other companies, and the actors who bring them to life.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
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A young girl, her blonde hair glistening in the Los Angeles sunlight, was outside the white ranch style house. She had a butterfly net in her hands and was examining something inside it. She looked up when the SUV pulled into the driveway, her face never changing from the intensely curious expression.
Gil stepped out of the car and smiled at the girl. She didn't smile back, clearly hearing in her mind the parental warnings of "never talk to strangers." He hesitated, not wanting to be rude to the child, but not wanting to put her into a dilemma.
He was about to inquire if this was the Raven house when the door opened and Julia came racing out, followed by a man with the child's blonde hair. His brother-in-law, he surmised from the way he grabbed Julia and pulled her to him to kiss her. Gil was shocked by the open display of affection between them.
The little girl tugged at Julia's blouse and when Julia looked down, she pointed toward Gil. Both adults turned to look and shock crossed Julia's face. "Gil?" she asked incredulously.
"I should have called first," he said hesitantly, apologetically. Julia stepped away from the man and shook her head.
"No. No! I'm glad you came," she said. She pushed her hair behind her ears and glanced around the yard, looking as uncertain as he felt. The man next to her touched her arm. She smiled at him.
"Gil, I'd like you to meet my husband Stephen Raven. Stephen, this is my older brother Gil."
Julia was using sign language to communicate with her husband. Gil quirked an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Stephen stepped forward to offer his hand and Gil took it, liking Julia's husband on sight. "Nice to meet you," Gil said and signed.
Julia drew the little girl to her side. "This is our daughter, Marissa. Marissa, this is your uncle Gil."
The girl smiled shyly at him. He smiled back. Stephen nudged Julia. Why don't I take Marissa to the store with me and let you and your brother talk? He signed.
Julia nodded. Gil watched her kiss her husband and child, the latter waving at Gil. He waved back. When they were gone, he turned to Julia. She saw the look in his eyes and knew what he was going to say.
"She looks almost exactly like Mom." He said it softly.
Julia nodded. "She does. But she has your interest in bugs," she added with a grimace.
He smiled wryly. "I bet you love that."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah. Like I loved the bugs you would dine with at the breakfast table and the spider you put in my bed that one time."
"Shouldn't have criticized my choice of names for my spider."
"Only because you wouldn't name it Charlotte. Why was that?"
"Because you suggested it."
"That's not a good reason."
"It is when you're fourteen."
"And your pesky little sister wants you to name a spider after her favorite book?"
"Exactly."
Julia smiled. "Come on in, Gil."
He followed her into the house, noticing that it was as nearly immaculate as his was. She led him into the kitchen. He accepted her offer of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. She took the seat opposite him, the table a barrier between them.
"That was the last time I can remember you doing something like that," Julia remarked.
Gil winced. "Dad…wasn't amused by the spider bit."
Julia paused with her cup halfway to her mouth. "He didn't…." she said softly, questioningly. Gil nodded, not looking at her. He winced from the phantom pain that crawled across his skin.
Julia saw the wince and shuddered in sympathy. Thomas Grissom had been a hard man. He had not tolerated deviance from his expectations. Rebellion was either physically or emotionally smacked down. Gil, being the son, had gotten more of the physical punishments than Julia had. But the depth of psychological cruelty had been vicious enough to scar both of them in a way the physical couldn't. It had left both of them unwilling, hell - unable, to form the kind of emotional bonds that most siblings had. And caused them to equate love with their father's behavior. It was the same with physical contact. Or so Julia's therapist had told her. After Mary Grissom's death, Julia had needed someone to talk to. Gil wouldn't talk to her at all, and she and Stephen had just started dating. She couldn't burden him with her problems. Not then.
Julia looked down at her coffee. Thomas Grissom's only saving grace, in her opinion, was that he had adored and worshiped his wife. He'd never raised a hand to her, never yelled at her - in speech or in sign. To his children, it seemed like he reserved all his love for his wife and thought Gil and Julia were nothing more than programmable robots. He was stingy any sort of display of affection for them. Gil had used his natural curiosity and desire to learn as a way to gain his father's approval. Thomas Grissom had been thrilled with his son's academic performance and encouraged him to greater achievements. It had been the only sort of paternal affection Gil had gotten. When Julia had been born, Gil had been seven years old, already ahead of most of his classmates. He'd even been on his way to blowing up the house a few times - much to his father's delight. He would brag to his friends about how smart his son was. Those friends never saw the depth of cruelty used to encourage that intelligence.
Julia had been a lot different than Gil. She had the same curiosity and the desire to learn, but her gifts lay in areas other than academics. She had good grades, but not the same as her brother. Their father constantly compared the two of them to Julia's detriment, in the hopes of spurring Julia on. As starved for paternal affection as Gil had been, Julia initially threw herself into her studies and tried to measure up. But eventually, when studying more didn't bring home the grades that would please their father, Julia stopped trying to measure up and rebelled. She let her studies go, though she never got anything below a C. She participated in non-academic after school activities like drama and soccer - which drove Thomas Grissom nuts. He tried to cut off her activities, refusing to sign the permission slips. Mary had signed them instead, and he couldn't bring himself to go against his wife. Instead, he'd belittled Julia's athletic and artistic achievements every chance he got. Thomas Grissom had wanted two academically brilliant children. He had seen Julia's activities as 'fun and games' - something that had no place in his world. Her high school soccer team won the State Championship two years in a row and father never congratulated her. He was glad the season was over so Julia could return to her studies and bring her grades back up to Gil's level.
Even affection between his children was frowned upon. Thomas Grissom hadn't approved of natural sibling teasing and quarrels. Julia had known that their father had gone ballistic over Gil putting a spider in Julia's bed. It wasn't a dangerous one - Gil was smarter than that. Still, the public upbraiding Gil had gotten left a lasting impression on both children. It was only now, thirty-three years afterward, that Julia discovered Gil had been beaten for the prank. He had never said a word to her. Julia would bet her medical degree on their mother not knowing either.
"God, dad was a bastard."
Gil's head snapped up and he looked at her with shock. "Julia…."
"What? Oh come on, Gil. Don't tell me you never thought of him in those terms. He deliberately tried to mold the two of us into the perfect children - his perfect children. You know what? It appears to have worked with you. Yes, you're brilliant and accomplished and you have a Ph.D. You also have no life outside your job, no human connections. Except for Dawn," she said quietly. "If you were anything like me, falling in love scared you half to death because you were afraid of turning into dad. The entire time I was pregnant with Marissa, I worried. I remembered all my fears and I didn't want to inflict that on my children. I wanted them to grow up loved, wanted, and be individuals."
"Marissa looks very happy, Julia."
She smiled, a very satisfied maternal smile. "Neither Stephen nor I had a happy childhood, and we wanted to avoid the same mistakes with Marissa. Hearing you say she looks happy, well, that means a lot."
Gil nodded, sipping at his coffee. Julia set her cup down and studied him. He hadn't changed all that much in the past ten years, except for the eyes. They had always been guarded, hiding what he was thinking. The glasses he now wore reinforced that aloofness, but Julia could see the pain that flickered through the depths.
"Dawn must have been special," Julia commented, inviting Gil to talk about her.
He nodded. "She was."
Julia waited, but her brother stayed silent. She sighed. "Gil, why did you come here?"
He looked up at her in surprise. "You said we needed to talk, Julia."
"Emphasis on the we, Gil. It's been ten years since you and I spoke. Even then it was more like an argument. I don't want us to go through another ten years of not knowing what's happening in each other's lives. Did you know," she asked him, tilting her head, "that if anything were to happen to Stephen or me, you would become Marissa's guardian? His family is more messed up than ours was. We couldn't imagine one of them trying to raise her."
"Julia…"
"I know. You can't imagine trying to raise her either. But I think you would make a good father, Gil. And I can honestly say I think Marissa would be happier with you."
He was quiet for a moment. "Thank you."
"We've lost so much time, Gil. Dad really screwed us up to the point where we couldn't even go to each other for help. When mom died, I wanted nothing more than to talk to you, but I couldn't get past those barriers. I hated you for so long, because I couldn't live up to your brilliance, and Dad never wasted an opportunity to tell me."
Gil frowned. "I hated you for not trying to, for leaving me to take Dad's anger." He shifted in his seat, feeling the heavy hand of his father against his skin. It was part of the reason he always wore long sleeves. He'd had to in high school, to hide the bruises. He wore them now when his nightmares caused him to awaken thinking the purple marks of his father's "affection" were still there.
"Whatever's happened in the past, whatever we felt about each other then, we're all we have left of our family, Gil." Julia's soft, tearful voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up to find her watching him. "I never asked you to my wedding or to Marissa's christening. Family moments - you should have been there to give me away, to act at Marissa's godfather. But I couldn't pick up the phone to call you. You lost the woman you wanted to marry, and I couldn't be there to help you, to offer what solace I could." Tears were running down Julia's cheeks as she spoke. "I don't want to miss anymore. My biggest fear is hearing through the coroner's grapevine that a CSI in Las Vegas was killed, and finding out that CSI was you. I don't want to be left with 'what ifs' and 'if only's' and guilt over not reaching out to you sooner. I can't image you want that either."
Julia grabbed a napkin from the holder and wiped her cheeks. Gil remained silent, her words still echoing. She was right; he didn't want that. After Dawn's death, he had thought about calling Julia many times, especially during those sleepless nights. He could not bring himself to pick up the phone, no matter how much he longed to hear his sister's voice.
Julia suddenly reached out and grabbed Gil's hand. He looked at her in surprise. She appeared to be taken aback by her action as well. The last time he could remember Julia touching him was at his high school graduation, a quick hug after the ceremony. Even at their mother's funeral, they hadn't comforted each other with a hug or even a handclasp.
"I don't want to lose you again. I know we can't overcome thirty years of hell in a few minutes, but we can at least make a start? Please?"
Gil looked at her. He nodded, and Julia gave a small smile. He smiled back.
Julia pulled her hand away and poured more coffee for both of them. "I guess, older brother, that you would like the run down on my husband."
The corner of Gil's mouth quirked in a small smile. "You know me, always curious."
Julia smiled and was about to start talking when the doorbell rang. "Excuse me," she said, getting up and leaving the room. Gil sat back and sipped at his coffee, looking around the cheerful room. The walls were pale yellow with a flowery border. Papers on the refrigerator caught his eye, and he got up to take a closer look at the childlike artwork. Marissa's drawings were prominently displayed, and while the renderings lacked fine details, they were full of imagination - dragons and unicorns, birds and bugs, and one of two adult stick figures and a child stick figure in front of a house.
"Gayle, I believe you've already met Gil Grissom." Julia's voice sounded behind him, and Gil turned to see her leading Detective Martin into the kitchen. She looked surprised at seeing the Las Vegas CSI in Julia's kitchen.
"Well isn't this cozy?" she asked.
Gil raised an eyebrow as he straightened from his examination of the artwork. "Cozy?" he inquired.
"LA Medical Examiner, Las Vegas CSI having coffee? Get tired of your schoolteacher?"
"Can it, Gayle. He's my brother."
"You don't have a brother, Julia."
"Yes, I do. I just never talk about him. Now what's so important that you feel the need to drop by on my day off?"
Gayle looked from Julia to Gil. "Wait a second. You never told me he was your brother when I asked you to look into his background."
Gil looked over at Julia with amusement. "Oh?"
Julia shrugged. "Coroner grapevine."
"Ah."
"So, Gayle, business?"
The detective looked like she wanted to say something more, but moved on to the reason for her visit. "I was typing all this up for the D.A. Found a problem in Swenson's confession - he lied."
Both Gil and Julia looked stunned. Julia snatched the folder out of Gayle's hands. "What do you mean - lied?"
"Swenson told me that he suffocated Carlyle before dragging him into Jensen's classroom."
"Carlyle died from a heroin overdose," Julia said absently as she read the statement.
"Exactly. I didn't have your full post-mortem when he confessed, so I took it at face value. So why did he confess?"
"Perhaps to protect someone else?" Gil mused from where he was pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee.
Gayle shot him a look. "I don't recall asking for your opinion, Mr. Grissom."
"Still, he's right. He could be covering for someone else."
"Okay, I'll bite. So, any ideas, Mr. Grissom?"
"Well," he said, sitting down at the table near the two women, "from what Julia said, Swenson claimed to have killed Carlyle because the latter was having an affair with Swenson's wife. It's possible that he's covering for his wife."
Gayle tilted her head to one side. "I don't buy it. His wife was cheating on him, she kills her lover, and he covers for her?"
Julia shrugged. "It's not like we haven't seen it before, Gayle."
The detective shook her head. "I don't know. I talked to the wife. She seemed upset that her lover was dead."
"No offense, Detective, but I have seen some very good liars in interrogation rooms," Gil pointed out. "And there are other suspects. Carlyle's wife, for instance."
"Why would Swenson cover for her?" Julia asked. "Unless you're saying the school is Melrose Place and he was sleeping with Carlyle's wife?"
Gil looked from Julia to Gayle, his eyebrows furrowed. "Melrose what?"
Both women looked at him, then at each other and chuckled. "Never mind, Gil," Julia said. "Basically, we're expressing our disbelief at such a love quadrangle."
Gil leaned forward, frowning. "Why is it so unbelievable? Husband cheats on wife. Wife wants revenge - so she cheats, and finds a sympathetic lover in the other wronged spouse."
Gayle leaned back and looked at Gil. "When you put it that way, it does sound plausible. And we can't verify Gina Carlyle's alibi. She claims to have been shopping, but there are no credit card receipts. I had a few cops check the stores she says she was at, no one remembers her. At least Ms. Jensen had a better story than that."
Gil stopped with his coffee mug almost at his mouth. He peered over the rim at Detective Martin, eyebrow quirked. His eyes were challenging almost. Gayle returned the stare calmly. Julia stirred her coffee and waited for someone to break the stare. The tension between the two was thick.
Finally Gayle shrugged and looked away. "Natalie Jensen's story was also verifiable, at least the part about the salesman in the paint department."
Gil relaxed a little. So did Julia.
"Was Carlyle killed in the classroom?"
Julia shook her head at Gil's question. "No, he was killed elsewhere and dragged into the classroom." She looked at Gayle. "Did you ever find out where he was killed?"
"No," she said slowly. "Checked the entire school. Someone either cleaned up really good or we missed it." Gayle pulled out her cell phone and started dialing.
Julia turned to Gil. "I hate to say this, Gil, but if this is turning into an official inquiry…well, with you being Natalie's friend…" she let her voice trail off.
Gil understood. His involvement was already on the line of 'interference', and anything more would look bad for Natalie. He got up, Julia rising as well. She walked him to the front door. He stopped before leaving, pulling his own business card out of his wallet. "Here. Work is the best place to reach me." He hesitated like he wanted to say more, then leaned down to kiss Julia on the cheek, startling them both. "Let's keep in touch. To hell with the old man," he added with a smile tracing across his lips.
Julia smiled back, waiting until Gil was in his car and out of sight before closing her front door. She held the card he had given her clutched tightly in her hand.
* * * * *
He hadn't been here in three years. Not since watching the groundskeepers lower the casket into the ground and begin replacing the soil. The cemetery was quiet, peaceful. Rows of flat plates marked where friends and loved ones lay. Bouquets of flowers were placed near some, reflecting visits.
Flowers were in front of Dawn's marker. Natalie must have been by recently. Gil sat down on the grass and traced the writing with a finger. Each letter of her name was given attention. He ran the side of his thumb over her last name. It was the wrong name, to him. It should read Dawn Marie Grissom.
The diagnosis had come three months into their engagement. They had been planning the wedding - meeting with the priest and settling on guests. It wasn't going to be a big ceremony - her friends and colleagues, Natalie as maid of honor, a few friends of his from the lab, one of them as best man. The wedding was a few weeks away, but Dawn hadn't been feeling well. A routine trip to the doctor found something odd. He sent Dawn to a specialist. They found cancer. Too advanced for surgery, for treatment. The doctor could barely bring himself to tell Dawn and Gil the dire prognosis. A miracle was the best they could hope for.
Gil sighed. Dawn had changed that day, learning she was so ill that science could do nothing for her. Her illness had taken an emotional toll on both of them. He couldn't accept losing her to something they had no control over. It was heartbreaking to see her slip away from him, little by little.
After a few weeks, there was one bad night where he'd come home to find Dawn crying over her fate. She had insisted that they call off the wedding when she realized her condition was terminal. He had reluctantly agreed, but it went against his heart. That morning, he'd tried to convince her again to marry him. Her condition didn't matter to him. He loved her. He wanted to marry her, be her husband for as long as he could. If a miracle happened, that would be a blessing. If not, so be it. When Dawn had protested that they had canceled everything, he'd reminded her they were in Las Vegas - they could marry that night. He wanted to.
"God, how I wanted to marry you, Dawn," he whispered, his hand still on the marker. "I didn't care how long we had together. I love you." He felt tears start. "Why, Dawn? Why wouldn't you let me?"
He knew the answer to that question, but it was one he still couldn't accept. Dawn didn't want to get married because she didn't want to make him a widower before the honeymoon was over. She thought it was selfish of her to do that. He desperately tried to convince her that he didn't care. She would smile, tell him he was sweet, but she couldn't do that to him. It became a familiar disagreement. He stopped asking when her illness progressed. The frailer she got, the more he couldn't bring himself to argue with her.
Tears ran down his cheeks. God, how he missed her. Her smile, her laugh, her touch - all the little things about her he had come to depend on. The way she would light up when he walked into the house. Her little routines for grading tests - marking each separate exam and putting them into neat piles based on how many marks she had made so as to make the curve easier to determine. The way she would switch her routines during the summers to be awake when he was, and be able to sleep in his arms during the day.
His tears dripped unheeded onto the ground. "I still look for you, still expect to see you in our bed when I get home. I wake up in the afternoons and listen for your footsteps. I see something in the paper and I want to share it with you. But I can't. I was there, with you, and I still can't…. I just…I need you too much, Dawn. I miss you too much…." His voice cracked and the tears flowed freely. Three years of anger, grief, and loneliness poured out of him as he sat by the woman he loved.
He'd been there, in her hospital room. He'd taken her hand when she'd moved it toward him. Her eyes had been dull from the pain and the medication, but he'd still seen the spark of love in her eyes as she'd looked at him. He hadn't really been aware of Natalie being in the room. All he could see was Dawn. He'd caressed her hair, kissed her forehead, her lips. She'd turned to Natalie, and smiled at her sister. Natalie had kissed her as well. Then Dawn looked back at him. A small smile crossed her lips as she whispered I love you. He'd whispered it back. A few moments later her eyes had closed and her chest eventually went still, not rising to take another breath. Natalie had cried, but he could only stare at Dawn's body, numb. He hadn't been able to cry then, nor at her funeral, nor once in the three years since. It was like he had been in shock and denial since that moment, until this trip to Los Angeles.
Eventually his tears dried up. He let the cool breeze dry his face as he whispered to her. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I felt so helpless. I couldn't save you. Couldn't do for you what I do for others every night - get justice. The only thing it seemed like I could control was marrying you. I still wish you'd have let me. I know why, but it doesn't make it any easier, love." A wedding ring and a marriage certificate would have been a poor substitute for her living, breathing, laughing presence in his life, but they would have been comfort for those long, sleepless nights when he wondered if she had just been a dream. When he missed her so much he doubted his own sanity.
He sighed. "Your sister's right. It's been hard for me to see her as her. Because I can't let go of you." His voice dropped. "But maybe I have to. Maybe I need to move forward. You always wanted me to get in touch with Julia. We've made a start. We can't erase the past, but maybe we can find something close to common ground. And maybe then I can stop hurting Natalie so much."
For long moments he sat there, lost in thought. Memories of the past and hopes for the future swirled around him idly. Finally he kissed the tips of his fingers and pressed them to the marker in benediction.
"I love you, Dawn."
* * * * *
Natalie was upside down when Gil walked into the living room. He stopped, turning his head to the side. Her stocking feet were up on the wall, and her head was on the carpet. She had a book in her hands, and he didn't think she had noticed him come in. Then she spoke.
"Yes, I'm upside down and reading. Do you have a problem with that?"
He shrugged and sat down next to her. "Doesn't that bother you?"
"Not really. Hey - I live alone. I have to do something to keep me amused."
"I see."
He leaned back against the couch and watched her read for a while. "I talked to Julia," he finally said.
Natalie set her book down and looked up at him. Her eyes were questioning, but she remained silent.
"I think we've made a start. It's hard to tell, after ten years of silence and everything else."
Natalie swung her legs down and rested her body on the floor, her head by Gil's feet. "That's good."
"You were right, you know. About not seeing you as you."
She sat up and looked at him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, not looking at her.
Natalie got up from the floor and sat next to him on the couch. "I know you didn't mean to," she replied just as softly.
"I never really accepted losing Dawn, or Julia for that matter. It meant accepting there were things I couldn't control. I couldn't do that. So I looked for ways to deny it."
Natalie stayed silent. She knew he had used her as a form of denial.
"I want to thank you," he said quietly.
"For what?"
"For being you." He looked away as he spoke. She smiled slightly.
"You're welcome." She reached out to take his hand. "Thank you for being here, Gil. You didn't have to drop everything to come down here for me."
"Yes, I did. You're my friend."
Natalie savored that last sentence. It was a true acceptance of her as herself, not Dawn's little sister or a substitute for Julia. She smiled at him.
"I have to get back to Las Vegas soon. Will you be okay?" he asked with concern.
Natalie nodded. "I'll be fine."
"You sure?"
At that Natalie laughed. "Yes, I'm sure! You go back to your bugs and bodies before someone discovers they can get along without you!"
Gil smiled. "I don't think that will happen."
"You never know. You keep telling me you've got some bright people on your shift."
"You should come to Vegas. Maybe meet some of them," he suggested.
"I am not coming to Vegas so you can play matchmaker, Gil Grissom."
He looked shocked, then smiled warmly. "I want you to come to Vegas because I enjoy your company, Natalie. The last time you were there you never got to see much of the city. I'd like to show you around. Let you meet my friends. Maybe at Christmas?"
Natalie smiled. "I'd like that."
