Love Comes Softly
Chapter Nine
Author's Notes: OK, so this chapter is kind of long. But is that my fault?! Well...OK..it is.
Disclaimers: *yawns* What was the question?
Thanks: To Tash, oh wonderful Tash! How I love your enthusiasm! Allison, Hedgey, Mooni, Alisha (are you and Catherine still dating???;)), etc! And thank you, for reading this! Also, thanks to the Pink Book, you can always give me inspiration. Thanks to the creator of Starburst. You make lunch hour more interesting.
Enjoy.
She stumbled out of bed that morning, sickness overwhelming her so much she could barely walk. She was so weak, she just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything she had eaten the past day. She groaned, flipping on the lights through the house as she dragged herself from room to room.
The phone sat on the kitchen table, and she snatched it up, dialing Warrick's number. His voice, soft and familiar, sounded on the other line. "Hey Cat."
"How did you know it was me?" Her feeble voice asked him, and she sat down on a chair to rest her aching body.
"Caller ID. What's wrong? You sound like shit."
"Thanks." She said sarcastically, running her fingers through her knotted and greasy hair. "I'm sick."
"I'm coming over." He said instantly, and ignored her protests. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
It really only took him ten, but that was because he was a man on a mission. He rang her doorbell, but then let himself in, not wanting her to have to get up. He didn't know how sick she was, but judging by her voice, she was probably in bed.
He was wrong. She was sitting on the couch in the living room, her face pale and pasty. Clammy hands grasped his as soon as he was close enough. He put a palm on her forehead and watched her roll her eyes.
"Warrick, I've been sick like this every day, it's just starting to get worse now." Something passed through his eyes, but it was too quick for her to catch.
"Every morning?" She nodded. He sighed. "You should see a doctor, Cathy. It could be bad."
"It's nothing." Warrick knew Catherine well enough to tell that she was avoiding the problem, and that she would continue to do so until it was no longer a problem at all. There was nothing he could do but annoy her.
"Any chance you might be pregnant?" He had asked the question because of hope, but something else shone through his words.
"Pregnant? At my age?" She said, almost laughing.
"You're not too old." He said, a hint of professionalism in his voice, something he knew Catherine wouldn't appreciate.
"At your age?" She did laugh then, and he did too. She loved to tease him about the fact that he was younger than her. He didn't mind most of the time, and it helped Cat feel less awkward in some situations.
"Anything else weird happen?" She knew what he was getting at, and raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing I'm going to tell you about." He knew by her voice when she was hinting for him to change the subject. Unfortunately, he didn't always listen.
"At least go see a doctor." He pleaded, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He heard her sigh behind him, but she conceded.
"Alright. I'll set up an appointment right now." The phone was still sitting beside her, so she picked it up. "You can be pretty damn convincing sometimes, you know that?"
"I have that affect on a lot of women." He said, and she giggled. Just having him here with her was starting to make the sick feeling go away.
Sara and Grissom were playing checkers. The board was spread out in Grissom's living room, black and white against the dark brown of his hardwood floor. Sara was laying on her stomach on the ground, one hand resting under her chin to hold her head up. Grissom was sitting, cross- legged, opposite of her.
"I can't believe I'm beating you." She said gleefully, his defeated game pieces in her free hand.
"I'm letting you win because I feel bad." He lied, moving one of his few pieces across to another square.
"Sure..." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "King me."
He rolled his eyes, did as he was told, and leaned back so his shoulders were resting against his couch. "I've been thinking about what we should do if this surgery doesn't pan out."
She looked up at him with renewed interest. "You mean if you lose your hearing completely?" He nodded, his eyes holding hers.
"When you first came here, it said on your resume that you know sign language." He said. Strangely, he saw fear pass through her face.
"I think I might have lost it." She stuttered, sliding another one of her pieces across the board. His hand reached out and landed on hers, stopping the movement.
"No you haven't. How do you know sign language?" She shrugged, he raised an eyebrow.
"Just something I picked up in college." She shrugged nonchalantly and looked away from his face. "I'm still winning."
"Let's leave the game alone for now, OK?" His voice was gentle, soft. Pleading, almost. "Sara, talk to me."
"I am talking to you, Gil. Why do you always think there's hidden meaning behind everything? I learned sign language for the fun of it. I don't think I know it anymore, so can we just drop it?" Her voice rose with her anger. There was no doubt in Grissom's mind that something was, very definitely, going on.
"I had a deaf mother, Sara."
"I know that."
"Because I told you. I didn't have to, but I did." The reasoning behind his words was simple. He wanted her to share something with him.
She still wouldn't look at him, and she was now sitting up, her arms folded across her chest in a gesture of defiance. But eventually, the facade crumbled and she sighed. "I had a deaf sister. Her name was Heather."
He moved over to where she was sitting. "Had?"
She nodded, this time her eyes betraying her sadness. "She died when she was ten." Suddenly, Sara stood up from where she was sitting and moved to the bar, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels. Upon Grissom's puzzled and exasperated expression, she smiled faintly. "Don't worry, I'll tell you the rest of the story. I just need a little alcohol in my blood first."
She sat on the cold, steel chair, her feet wrapped around its legs. Her eyes, open, wide, unblinking, stared out at the doctor. His face was unfeeling, his eyes unmoving. His mouth had uttered the words she wasn't expecting to hear, and she couldn't bring herself to react to them.
"Are you positive?" She finally managed to croak, still not moving.
The doctor nodded. She felt his gaze settle on her face. She was too shocked to make any kind of expression. "But I was so sure.." She whispered.
She left his office amid a cluster of helpful suggestions that she didn't need to hear. Shaking her head she blocked out the sound of his voice. She had heard it all before.
Suddenly feeling hungry, she stopped at a McDonald's and ordered a disgusting, gooey cheeseburger. The grease seeped through the wrapping and onto her fingers. She stared at it for a few seconds before throwing the cheeseburger out, reminding herself that that kind of food was no longer appropriate. And that now, at this point in time, she could barely even swallow her own saliva without throwing up let alone chomp down actual food.
On the drive home the real world started to settle in around her. First the road, then the bushes, the pink haze above the clouds that used to be the sun, before it set. She sighed, turning her car into his driveway. The navy blue Tahoe he drove already sat there, letting her know he was home. She slowly walked up to his doorway, letting herself in.
"Warrick?" She called out, her voice cracking from the sudden burst of happiness she felt. "Baby, where are you?"
He appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, wearing nothing but a white towel half-wrapped around his waist. "Cath, what is it?" His eyes held the look of worry. "What did the doctor say?" She grinned, staring into his face and seeing nothing but nervousness. "Are you...?"
She nodded. First he smiled, then raised a hand into the air and whooped for joy. Her laughter came as quickly as his and he reached down to grab her in his arms. He spun her around, and then kissed her, full of happiness and a thousand other indescribable feelings.
She put a hand on each of his cheeks and looked into his eyes, seeing him for the first time as the father of her unborn child. She leaned in closer to whisper, "I love you."
"I love you too." He said, and kissed her again. "And I'm going to be a dad." His disbelief made her smile again. "I can't wait." He said, and reached down to put a hand on her stomach.
"She drowned. The whole family had decided to go swimming at the lake, so we hauled our stuff down there. Heather and I went swimming, mom and dad stayed on the beach. Heather went too far out. I told her not to, but she did anyhow. Mom and Dad were suntanning with the radio on, and couldn't hear me screaming for them to help. I swam and swam but by the time I got to her she was.." Her eyes locked with Grissom's before she continued. "..dead."
No tears even formed themselves in her eyes. Gil observed this, silently, sitting in the leather chair watching her pace the kitchen. Her back to him, almost shutting him out.
"If Heather could've heard my vocal warnings not to go out so far, she would still be alive." Her voice shook. Gil's index finger was resting on his chin thoughtfully, and Sara suddenly felt like a victim in one of their cases. He was still staring at her, completely silent.
"I'm glad you told me." His voice cut through the silence harshly.
"Why?" She asked, disbelieving.
"I want to know about your past, about your life, about who you are." Was his only answer. He still hadn't moved.
"Why? Why do you, in particular, care? No one else did, why do you?" Her voice was strained, like a scream, but it was so quiet to him that he had to move his head closer to her in order to hear it.
He stood, clad in blue silk pajamas and a bathrobe. She waited for him to say something, anything, to answer her question. He didn't walk towards her, didn't move to comfort her, or even look like he was thinking about her question.
Then his hands went up, and he began the quick, smooth movements. He watched as she watched him sign his message to her. His reply.
Motionless, she stood away from him while it sunk in. She bent her head down, a lock of hair falling carelessly from the ponytail it had once been tied into. He waited patiently for her reaction to what he had just answered with.
Her shaky voice rang out through the room, it felt loud in his ears. "I love you, too."
Chapter Nine
Author's Notes: OK, so this chapter is kind of long. But is that my fault?! Well...OK..it is.
Disclaimers: *yawns* What was the question?
Thanks: To Tash, oh wonderful Tash! How I love your enthusiasm! Allison, Hedgey, Mooni, Alisha (are you and Catherine still dating???;)), etc! And thank you, for reading this! Also, thanks to the Pink Book, you can always give me inspiration. Thanks to the creator of Starburst. You make lunch hour more interesting.
Enjoy.
She stumbled out of bed that morning, sickness overwhelming her so much she could barely walk. She was so weak, she just made it to the bathroom in time to throw up everything she had eaten the past day. She groaned, flipping on the lights through the house as she dragged herself from room to room.
The phone sat on the kitchen table, and she snatched it up, dialing Warrick's number. His voice, soft and familiar, sounded on the other line. "Hey Cat."
"How did you know it was me?" Her feeble voice asked him, and she sat down on a chair to rest her aching body.
"Caller ID. What's wrong? You sound like shit."
"Thanks." She said sarcastically, running her fingers through her knotted and greasy hair. "I'm sick."
"I'm coming over." He said instantly, and ignored her protests. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
It really only took him ten, but that was because he was a man on a mission. He rang her doorbell, but then let himself in, not wanting her to have to get up. He didn't know how sick she was, but judging by her voice, she was probably in bed.
He was wrong. She was sitting on the couch in the living room, her face pale and pasty. Clammy hands grasped his as soon as he was close enough. He put a palm on her forehead and watched her roll her eyes.
"Warrick, I've been sick like this every day, it's just starting to get worse now." Something passed through his eyes, but it was too quick for her to catch.
"Every morning?" She nodded. He sighed. "You should see a doctor, Cathy. It could be bad."
"It's nothing." Warrick knew Catherine well enough to tell that she was avoiding the problem, and that she would continue to do so until it was no longer a problem at all. There was nothing he could do but annoy her.
"Any chance you might be pregnant?" He had asked the question because of hope, but something else shone through his words.
"Pregnant? At my age?" She said, almost laughing.
"You're not too old." He said, a hint of professionalism in his voice, something he knew Catherine wouldn't appreciate.
"At your age?" She did laugh then, and he did too. She loved to tease him about the fact that he was younger than her. He didn't mind most of the time, and it helped Cat feel less awkward in some situations.
"Anything else weird happen?" She knew what he was getting at, and raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing I'm going to tell you about." He knew by her voice when she was hinting for him to change the subject. Unfortunately, he didn't always listen.
"At least go see a doctor." He pleaded, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He heard her sigh behind him, but she conceded.
"Alright. I'll set up an appointment right now." The phone was still sitting beside her, so she picked it up. "You can be pretty damn convincing sometimes, you know that?"
"I have that affect on a lot of women." He said, and she giggled. Just having him here with her was starting to make the sick feeling go away.
Sara and Grissom were playing checkers. The board was spread out in Grissom's living room, black and white against the dark brown of his hardwood floor. Sara was laying on her stomach on the ground, one hand resting under her chin to hold her head up. Grissom was sitting, cross- legged, opposite of her.
"I can't believe I'm beating you." She said gleefully, his defeated game pieces in her free hand.
"I'm letting you win because I feel bad." He lied, moving one of his few pieces across to another square.
"Sure..." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "King me."
He rolled his eyes, did as he was told, and leaned back so his shoulders were resting against his couch. "I've been thinking about what we should do if this surgery doesn't pan out."
She looked up at him with renewed interest. "You mean if you lose your hearing completely?" He nodded, his eyes holding hers.
"When you first came here, it said on your resume that you know sign language." He said. Strangely, he saw fear pass through her face.
"I think I might have lost it." She stuttered, sliding another one of her pieces across the board. His hand reached out and landed on hers, stopping the movement.
"No you haven't. How do you know sign language?" She shrugged, he raised an eyebrow.
"Just something I picked up in college." She shrugged nonchalantly and looked away from his face. "I'm still winning."
"Let's leave the game alone for now, OK?" His voice was gentle, soft. Pleading, almost. "Sara, talk to me."
"I am talking to you, Gil. Why do you always think there's hidden meaning behind everything? I learned sign language for the fun of it. I don't think I know it anymore, so can we just drop it?" Her voice rose with her anger. There was no doubt in Grissom's mind that something was, very definitely, going on.
"I had a deaf mother, Sara."
"I know that."
"Because I told you. I didn't have to, but I did." The reasoning behind his words was simple. He wanted her to share something with him.
She still wouldn't look at him, and she was now sitting up, her arms folded across her chest in a gesture of defiance. But eventually, the facade crumbled and she sighed. "I had a deaf sister. Her name was Heather."
He moved over to where she was sitting. "Had?"
She nodded, this time her eyes betraying her sadness. "She died when she was ten." Suddenly, Sara stood up from where she was sitting and moved to the bar, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels. Upon Grissom's puzzled and exasperated expression, she smiled faintly. "Don't worry, I'll tell you the rest of the story. I just need a little alcohol in my blood first."
She sat on the cold, steel chair, her feet wrapped around its legs. Her eyes, open, wide, unblinking, stared out at the doctor. His face was unfeeling, his eyes unmoving. His mouth had uttered the words she wasn't expecting to hear, and she couldn't bring herself to react to them.
"Are you positive?" She finally managed to croak, still not moving.
The doctor nodded. She felt his gaze settle on her face. She was too shocked to make any kind of expression. "But I was so sure.." She whispered.
She left his office amid a cluster of helpful suggestions that she didn't need to hear. Shaking her head she blocked out the sound of his voice. She had heard it all before.
Suddenly feeling hungry, she stopped at a McDonald's and ordered a disgusting, gooey cheeseburger. The grease seeped through the wrapping and onto her fingers. She stared at it for a few seconds before throwing the cheeseburger out, reminding herself that that kind of food was no longer appropriate. And that now, at this point in time, she could barely even swallow her own saliva without throwing up let alone chomp down actual food.
On the drive home the real world started to settle in around her. First the road, then the bushes, the pink haze above the clouds that used to be the sun, before it set. She sighed, turning her car into his driveway. The navy blue Tahoe he drove already sat there, letting her know he was home. She slowly walked up to his doorway, letting herself in.
"Warrick?" She called out, her voice cracking from the sudden burst of happiness she felt. "Baby, where are you?"
He appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, wearing nothing but a white towel half-wrapped around his waist. "Cath, what is it?" His eyes held the look of worry. "What did the doctor say?" She grinned, staring into his face and seeing nothing but nervousness. "Are you...?"
She nodded. First he smiled, then raised a hand into the air and whooped for joy. Her laughter came as quickly as his and he reached down to grab her in his arms. He spun her around, and then kissed her, full of happiness and a thousand other indescribable feelings.
She put a hand on each of his cheeks and looked into his eyes, seeing him for the first time as the father of her unborn child. She leaned in closer to whisper, "I love you."
"I love you too." He said, and kissed her again. "And I'm going to be a dad." His disbelief made her smile again. "I can't wait." He said, and reached down to put a hand on her stomach.
"She drowned. The whole family had decided to go swimming at the lake, so we hauled our stuff down there. Heather and I went swimming, mom and dad stayed on the beach. Heather went too far out. I told her not to, but she did anyhow. Mom and Dad were suntanning with the radio on, and couldn't hear me screaming for them to help. I swam and swam but by the time I got to her she was.." Her eyes locked with Grissom's before she continued. "..dead."
No tears even formed themselves in her eyes. Gil observed this, silently, sitting in the leather chair watching her pace the kitchen. Her back to him, almost shutting him out.
"If Heather could've heard my vocal warnings not to go out so far, she would still be alive." Her voice shook. Gil's index finger was resting on his chin thoughtfully, and Sara suddenly felt like a victim in one of their cases. He was still staring at her, completely silent.
"I'm glad you told me." His voice cut through the silence harshly.
"Why?" She asked, disbelieving.
"I want to know about your past, about your life, about who you are." Was his only answer. He still hadn't moved.
"Why? Why do you, in particular, care? No one else did, why do you?" Her voice was strained, like a scream, but it was so quiet to him that he had to move his head closer to her in order to hear it.
He stood, clad in blue silk pajamas and a bathrobe. She waited for him to say something, anything, to answer her question. He didn't walk towards her, didn't move to comfort her, or even look like he was thinking about her question.
Then his hands went up, and he began the quick, smooth movements. He watched as she watched him sign his message to her. His reply.
Motionless, she stood away from him while it sunk in. She bent her head down, a lock of hair falling carelessly from the ponytail it had once been tied into. He waited patiently for her reaction to what he had just answered with.
Her shaky voice rang out through the room, it felt loud in his ears. "I love you, too."
