Chapter Thirteen – Back Home
Catherine was at home doing her laundry when her cell phone rang. "Willows."
"Hello Catherine."
"Oh, no," Catherine thought. She recognized the caller's voice. She was beginning to be able to detect if the caller was calling just to give information or if she was calling to report another problem.
"What's wrong?" she asked Sr. Laura.
"I was just down to visit with Gil and I found out that he left the hospital a couple hours ago."
Catherine let out a deep sigh of frustration. "Okay. I'm sure he went home. I'll go check on him."
"You'll let me know if there's anything I can do?"
"I'll call you back, later." Catherine promised.
"Damn you Gil Grissom," Catherine thought. "Now how am I going to get into see him?" she thought to herself.
An hour after she got the call, she was knocking on his door. "Gil, I know your in there," she yelled though the door when he didn't answer. Rather than create a scene on the porch, she decided to call
him. The phone rang three times, before the answering machine click on. "Gil, if you don't answer the door, I'm going to assume something's wrong and I'll get someone to break in." She paused to give him a chance to answer. Then she continued, "Listen, I just brought you some groceries. Let me put them away...."
Then the door opened.
"Hi," she said. "I just brought you some groceries. Let me put them away for you and I'll leave. I promise."
He stepped aside so that she could enter. She carried 4 plastic grocery bags. She headed directly for the kitchen. When she got there she turned to see Gil, leaning heavily on a cane, walking painfully back to the table he was obviously sitting at when she arrived. He appeared to be going though his mail.
She decided to take a chance and start a conversation with him. "Gil, can I make you a sandwich?"
He didn't answer.
"You've been here for a couple hours now, you probably haven't eaten all day, have you? I'll just make it and leave. I promise."
He knew she was just trying to be helpful and he realized that he hadn't eaten all day.
"Okay, Gil?" she said as she started to pull out the ingredients.
"That will be fine," he told her. Then he added, "Catherine, why don't you make two and join me."
She wasn't expecting that, but she was more than glad to accept his invitation.
Catherine placed the two plates down at the table Gil was working at. He moved his papers aside for her. She went back to the kitchen to get the glass of milk she poured for him. He looked up at her when she set it down, as if asking what that was for.
"Helps mend broken bones," she told him.
They ate quietly for a few minutes, until Catherine spoke. "So why did you leave the hospital, Gil."
He was expecting the question. "Catherine, I can lay around in my own house as easily as I can at the hospital."
"Gil," she paused before continuing, as she knew what his answer would be, "Why don't you come and spend a few days at my place."
He looked down and shook his head. "Catherine, I'm fine. I just needed some time alone, to think about what's going to happen next. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've been doing it
for along time."
"Yea, for almost 19 years." She pointed out.
He looked up, making eye contact with her, but not saying a word. Finally he told her, "Catherine thanks for the lunch. How much do I owe you for the groceries?" He said as he started to reach for his checkbook.
"Nothing," she answered him. "Gil, why didn't you tell me about her. I would have kept your secret. This explains so much about you."
He got up and limped away from her. He did not want to discuss his feelings with anyone at this time. He slowly walked over and sat on the couch. "Catherine, I need you to leave."
She wasn't ready to leave. She went and sat next to him. She commented on the music that had been planning very softly. "That music is very pretty. I didn't know you were a soft jazz lover."
"It's Jenn's favorite." He answered.
"Oh, I see." Catherine answered. She pictured them alone together with the music playing and the lights turned down.
"This is all my fault, you know."
She turned and looked at him, "What's your fault?"
"She told me Duncan was dangerous. That she was still looking for her, but I didn't believe her."
"Gil, you were planning on leaving town. What more could you have done?"
"If I truly believed her I would have pushed the FBI to get us out of town sooner. I was only leaving because I knew she was scared, but I didn't believe this would happen. If I would have just trusted her instincts, we could have been safe somewhere and she wouldn't be dying."
Catherine did not know what to say. She wanted to help ease his pain and guilt, but everything was too fresh. "You are not responsible for the actions of that mad woman. Jenna would not want you to blame yourself. Would she?"
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. "No she wouldn't, but that doesn't change the facts."
"What facts?" Catherine had no idea what he was talking about.
"She warned me Catherine." He told her. "She wanted us to stay apart, but I insisted on spending time with her. I made her let down her guard."
He sat up and looked at Catherine so that she would understand why he was responsible for how things turned out. "I gave her a false sense of security. I wanted her to meet all of you, but she said no. She said that we had to keep a low profile. That was my compromise with her; she would see me, before we moved, as long as we kept it quiet"
He rested his head on the back of the couch, again. Looking up at he ceiling, he continued to explain. "I failed her Catherine. I made her believe that everything would be okay. She wouldn't stay here in the beginning, but once we learned our move date, she started to relax. The day that this all happened was only the second time, she was here alone."
He again sat up and looked at Catherine, "She was only here because I asked her to come over. I had the next day off and I wanted her to go into the desert with me to hunt beetles. If it wasn't for that, she wouldn't have been here."
"Gil, I understand why you would think this is your fault, but it isn't." She said placing her hand on his arm. "This is the fault of Kathy Duncan and Kathy Duncan alone. Duncan had a newspaper article about the murder at the Shelter. There was picture of Jenna in the paper. It was just a small picture, you could hardly identify her, but that was why Duncan knew that Jenna was in Vegas. She would have found her whether you were together or not."
It was as though he didn't hear a word she had to say. She waited for him to say something. When he didn't she told him again, "Gil, this wasn't your fault."
Then to her surprise, he started to tell her about what happened. "This is where she was sitting when I came home that morning. The last thing I saw before being hit on the head was the panic in her eyes. Her arms were tied behind her back and she had tape over her mouth. I knew before I blacked out what was happening."
Gil learned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and massaging his temples, trying to ease the pain of the headache he had. Catherine gently rubbed her hand across his upper back.
"Don't stop now Gil. Tell me the rest."
He continued, "After I woke up, Duncan would hit me and then go and put her face in Jenna's and ask her how she was feeling. Jenna couldn't talk because of the tape, but she tried. Every once in awhile Duncan would take the tape off and Jenna would tell me how sorry she was." He paused and added, "I've never been so helpless in all my life."
"Then Duncan was raving about something or another and Jenn managed to get loose. She grabbed the fireplace poker and hit Duncan with it. She ran to the kitchen to get a knife, to cut me free. Jenn was coming back with the knife when she saw that Duncan had regained consciousness. She had a gun hidden under her shirt; she was pointing it at me. Jenna came up behind her and started to stab her with the knife. Duncan turned and shot her. They both just collapsed from their wounds at the same time."
Then he turned to Catherine, "I saw it all and there was nothing I could do. I sat tied to that damn chair and there was nothing I could do."
"That's right Gil, there was nothing you could do. Look at your wrists, you tired to get loose, that's how you got these," she said pointing out the cuts around his wrists that were caused by the wire that bound him to the chair.
He was tired and didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Catherine, thanks for the groceries, but I'm tired, you should leave." He assured her he would be fine by himself. She wanted to stay, but she knew he was entitled to his privacy. "You call me if you need anything." She told him.
Then she added, "You'll let me know when the time is set to turn off the respirator? I want to go with you. Okay?"
"We'll see," is all he told her.
Catherine was just about to get into her car when she saw another car pull up and park in front of Gil's house. The driver got out and started to walk up to Gil's door. "Excuse me," Catherine called out to him.
The visitor turned to acknowledge her. Catherine was right; it was Fr. Powell, the priest that was counseling the Jennings boy, before he committed suicide in his jail cell.
"Oh, no." Catherine thought, he was the last person that Gil needed to deal with now. Gil didn't need any more guilt trips, today. She had to get rid of him. "Can I help you with something?" she wanted to know.
"This is Gil Grissom's house, right?" he asked.
"Yes," she confirmed for him.
"I'm fine then."
Catherine was determined to keep him away from Gil. "You know he just got out of the hospital, he really doesn't want any unexpected visitors."
"Well then, there's no problem is there?" he said as he started to head to the door.
What did that mean, Catherine wondered? "Excuse me." She called out to him again, trying to stop him from disturbing Gil.
Then the front door opened and Catherine saw Gil standing there. Fr. Powell turned and acknowledged Gil and as he started to walk to the house he informed Catherine that he wasn't an unexpected visitor.
Catherine stood in the walk and watched as the two men entered the house and closed the door.
Catherine was at home doing her laundry when her cell phone rang. "Willows."
"Hello Catherine."
"Oh, no," Catherine thought. She recognized the caller's voice. She was beginning to be able to detect if the caller was calling just to give information or if she was calling to report another problem.
"What's wrong?" she asked Sr. Laura.
"I was just down to visit with Gil and I found out that he left the hospital a couple hours ago."
Catherine let out a deep sigh of frustration. "Okay. I'm sure he went home. I'll go check on him."
"You'll let me know if there's anything I can do?"
"I'll call you back, later." Catherine promised.
"Damn you Gil Grissom," Catherine thought. "Now how am I going to get into see him?" she thought to herself.
An hour after she got the call, she was knocking on his door. "Gil, I know your in there," she yelled though the door when he didn't answer. Rather than create a scene on the porch, she decided to call
him. The phone rang three times, before the answering machine click on. "Gil, if you don't answer the door, I'm going to assume something's wrong and I'll get someone to break in." She paused to give him a chance to answer. Then she continued, "Listen, I just brought you some groceries. Let me put them away...."
Then the door opened.
"Hi," she said. "I just brought you some groceries. Let me put them away for you and I'll leave. I promise."
He stepped aside so that she could enter. She carried 4 plastic grocery bags. She headed directly for the kitchen. When she got there she turned to see Gil, leaning heavily on a cane, walking painfully back to the table he was obviously sitting at when she arrived. He appeared to be going though his mail.
She decided to take a chance and start a conversation with him. "Gil, can I make you a sandwich?"
He didn't answer.
"You've been here for a couple hours now, you probably haven't eaten all day, have you? I'll just make it and leave. I promise."
He knew she was just trying to be helpful and he realized that he hadn't eaten all day.
"Okay, Gil?" she said as she started to pull out the ingredients.
"That will be fine," he told her. Then he added, "Catherine, why don't you make two and join me."
She wasn't expecting that, but she was more than glad to accept his invitation.
Catherine placed the two plates down at the table Gil was working at. He moved his papers aside for her. She went back to the kitchen to get the glass of milk she poured for him. He looked up at her when she set it down, as if asking what that was for.
"Helps mend broken bones," she told him.
They ate quietly for a few minutes, until Catherine spoke. "So why did you leave the hospital, Gil."
He was expecting the question. "Catherine, I can lay around in my own house as easily as I can at the hospital."
"Gil," she paused before continuing, as she knew what his answer would be, "Why don't you come and spend a few days at my place."
He looked down and shook his head. "Catherine, I'm fine. I just needed some time alone, to think about what's going to happen next. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've been doing it
for along time."
"Yea, for almost 19 years." She pointed out.
He looked up, making eye contact with her, but not saying a word. Finally he told her, "Catherine thanks for the lunch. How much do I owe you for the groceries?" He said as he started to reach for his checkbook.
"Nothing," she answered him. "Gil, why didn't you tell me about her. I would have kept your secret. This explains so much about you."
He got up and limped away from her. He did not want to discuss his feelings with anyone at this time. He slowly walked over and sat on the couch. "Catherine, I need you to leave."
She wasn't ready to leave. She went and sat next to him. She commented on the music that had been planning very softly. "That music is very pretty. I didn't know you were a soft jazz lover."
"It's Jenn's favorite." He answered.
"Oh, I see." Catherine answered. She pictured them alone together with the music playing and the lights turned down.
"This is all my fault, you know."
She turned and looked at him, "What's your fault?"
"She told me Duncan was dangerous. That she was still looking for her, but I didn't believe her."
"Gil, you were planning on leaving town. What more could you have done?"
"If I truly believed her I would have pushed the FBI to get us out of town sooner. I was only leaving because I knew she was scared, but I didn't believe this would happen. If I would have just trusted her instincts, we could have been safe somewhere and she wouldn't be dying."
Catherine did not know what to say. She wanted to help ease his pain and guilt, but everything was too fresh. "You are not responsible for the actions of that mad woman. Jenna would not want you to blame yourself. Would she?"
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. "No she wouldn't, but that doesn't change the facts."
"What facts?" Catherine had no idea what he was talking about.
"She warned me Catherine." He told her. "She wanted us to stay apart, but I insisted on spending time with her. I made her let down her guard."
He sat up and looked at Catherine so that she would understand why he was responsible for how things turned out. "I gave her a false sense of security. I wanted her to meet all of you, but she said no. She said that we had to keep a low profile. That was my compromise with her; she would see me, before we moved, as long as we kept it quiet"
He rested his head on the back of the couch, again. Looking up at he ceiling, he continued to explain. "I failed her Catherine. I made her believe that everything would be okay. She wouldn't stay here in the beginning, but once we learned our move date, she started to relax. The day that this all happened was only the second time, she was here alone."
He again sat up and looked at Catherine, "She was only here because I asked her to come over. I had the next day off and I wanted her to go into the desert with me to hunt beetles. If it wasn't for that, she wouldn't have been here."
"Gil, I understand why you would think this is your fault, but it isn't." She said placing her hand on his arm. "This is the fault of Kathy Duncan and Kathy Duncan alone. Duncan had a newspaper article about the murder at the Shelter. There was picture of Jenna in the paper. It was just a small picture, you could hardly identify her, but that was why Duncan knew that Jenna was in Vegas. She would have found her whether you were together or not."
It was as though he didn't hear a word she had to say. She waited for him to say something. When he didn't she told him again, "Gil, this wasn't your fault."
Then to her surprise, he started to tell her about what happened. "This is where she was sitting when I came home that morning. The last thing I saw before being hit on the head was the panic in her eyes. Her arms were tied behind her back and she had tape over her mouth. I knew before I blacked out what was happening."
Gil learned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and massaging his temples, trying to ease the pain of the headache he had. Catherine gently rubbed her hand across his upper back.
"Don't stop now Gil. Tell me the rest."
He continued, "After I woke up, Duncan would hit me and then go and put her face in Jenna's and ask her how she was feeling. Jenna couldn't talk because of the tape, but she tried. Every once in awhile Duncan would take the tape off and Jenna would tell me how sorry she was." He paused and added, "I've never been so helpless in all my life."
"Then Duncan was raving about something or another and Jenn managed to get loose. She grabbed the fireplace poker and hit Duncan with it. She ran to the kitchen to get a knife, to cut me free. Jenn was coming back with the knife when she saw that Duncan had regained consciousness. She had a gun hidden under her shirt; she was pointing it at me. Jenna came up behind her and started to stab her with the knife. Duncan turned and shot her. They both just collapsed from their wounds at the same time."
Then he turned to Catherine, "I saw it all and there was nothing I could do. I sat tied to that damn chair and there was nothing I could do."
"That's right Gil, there was nothing you could do. Look at your wrists, you tired to get loose, that's how you got these," she said pointing out the cuts around his wrists that were caused by the wire that bound him to the chair.
He was tired and didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Catherine, thanks for the groceries, but I'm tired, you should leave." He assured her he would be fine by himself. She wanted to stay, but she knew he was entitled to his privacy. "You call me if you need anything." She told him.
Then she added, "You'll let me know when the time is set to turn off the respirator? I want to go with you. Okay?"
"We'll see," is all he told her.
Catherine was just about to get into her car when she saw another car pull up and park in front of Gil's house. The driver got out and started to walk up to Gil's door. "Excuse me," Catherine called out to him.
The visitor turned to acknowledge her. Catherine was right; it was Fr. Powell, the priest that was counseling the Jennings boy, before he committed suicide in his jail cell.
"Oh, no." Catherine thought, he was the last person that Gil needed to deal with now. Gil didn't need any more guilt trips, today. She had to get rid of him. "Can I help you with something?" she wanted to know.
"This is Gil Grissom's house, right?" he asked.
"Yes," she confirmed for him.
"I'm fine then."
Catherine was determined to keep him away from Gil. "You know he just got out of the hospital, he really doesn't want any unexpected visitors."
"Well then, there's no problem is there?" he said as he started to head to the door.
What did that mean, Catherine wondered? "Excuse me." She called out to him again, trying to stop him from disturbing Gil.
Then the front door opened and Catherine saw Gil standing there. Fr. Powell turned and acknowledged Gil and as he started to walk to the house he informed Catherine that he wasn't an unexpected visitor.
Catherine stood in the walk and watched as the two men entered the house and closed the door.