This story is based on characters created by Anthony E. Zuiker for the television series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.
Ghost (Part 26/26)
by Cheers
Monday Night 11:49 PM
After they had all seen Grissom, the Sheriff had headed back to his office and he had taken Brass with him. Calls had been coming into the department and the hospital from various local news reporters and concerned citizens. The Sheriff would have to deal with the media and citizenry. An assault against a member of law enforcement can frighten a vulnerable public. He would have some damage control to do.
Jim Brass still had to finish dealing with Paul Stankowski and complete the necessary paperwork to hold him until they could file the assault charges. Brass would head home for some much needed rest once his initial report was finished and check back at the hospital in the morning. He wouldn't be able to ask Grissom about the assault until he was conscious. It would help if the detective in charge of the case was coherent as well.
Catherine was all that remained of the CSI team at the hospital. It had taken some arguing, but she had managed to send the rest home without pulling rank on them. She had been prepared to do so if need be. Thankfully it hadn't come to that. They all had agreed to stay at the hospital in shifts. After she had provided multiple promises to notify all of them should Gil's condition change, they had left to shower and rest.
Sara would be back at the hospital in a few short hours, Catherine knew. They all probably would. That was okay. She would have all the time she needed to do what she needed to do. A mother was coming to find her lost child.
Tuesday Early Morning 00:41 AM
Sam Braun stood with his arm around Catherine's shoulder. They waited a few feet inside the doors of the Intensive Care Unit. Just outside Grissom's ICU room, a nurse was speaking to two women. One of these was Gil's mother, the other an ASL interpreter.
"Thanks for everything, Sam" Catherine said softly, not taking her eyes off Mrs. Grissom. "I owe you one."
Sam had been amazing. When Catherine had heard that Mrs. Grissom intended to drive to Las Vegas late at night after being scared half to death all day, she had called Sam. Once she had explained to him what her concern was, Sam had done everything. He had arranged for the LVMPD to send an interpreter from Las Vegas aboard Sam's personal jet to pick up Mrs. Grissom in California. He then had her flown to the Executive Terminal at McCarran and had brought them both to the hospital in his limousine. Brian Mobley had approved the plan and provided the ASL interpreter after Sam had insisted that he be allowed to use all the resources at his disposal.
Sam had also insisted on providing Mrs. Grissom with a suite at the Tangiers for the length of her stay in Vegas, and he had made sure that she wouldn't receive a bill for anything. It was a lot and it meant even more to Catherine. As a mother, this was something that she knew had to be done.
"Don't say another word about it, Mugs," Sam gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's not often that I get a chance to do something this right."
They fell silent and watched as Gil's mother stepped into her son's room and stood next to his bed. She gently stroked his face as silent tears fell down her cheeks.
Catherine was trembling, her emotion and the fatigue finally catching up with her. Sam steered her out of the ICU and into the corridor outside the unit. He wrapped his arms around her. Safe in Sam's protective embrace, Catherine let herself cry at last.
Tuesday Morning 09:13 AM
Jim Brass and Catherine stepped through the ICU door and immediately encountered three anxious colleagues. Warrick, Nick, and Sara were waiting for them.
Warrick pointed at the door with his chin. "How's he doing?"
"He's still very weak," Catherine told them.
"Did he ID him?" Nick asked.
"We got a firm nod," Jim confirmed, tapping the folder he was carrying.
Catherine nodded to Warrick. "What did you find out at the lab?"
"Oh," Warrick began, "the Red Wings that Stankowski was wearing when he was arrested were a perfect match to the shoeprints from the stairwell. Greg is trying to see if there's anything usable from Gris's clothes. With the evidence we have now, I think we can put him away even without an ID."
"Excuse me," a woman's voice behind them said.
Turning, the team found that they had been joined by two women: one, an older lady in her late sixties, the other a thirty-something Hispanic. It was the younger of the two women that had addressed them. The elder of the two tapped the younger one on the arm and, after getting her attention, began to sign to her.
Everyone on the team exchanged looks except Catherine. She was paying close attention to the older woman.
After a moment, the Hispanic woman, obviously an ASL interpreter, began to speak to them. "Mrs. Grissom would like to thank all of you for the wonderful work you have done to find her son."
"Mrs. Grissom?" Sara asked, confused. "This is Mrs. Grissom? Grissom's mother?"
The interpreter signed Sara's words for Mrs. Grissom. Gil's mother smiled and began to sign again.
"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," she said through the interpreter. "It's just that I feel like I know all of you so well. Gil has told me so much about you."
They exchanged surprised looks again.
"There's no need to thank us," Catherine was saying. "We all wanted to find your son. He's not just our boss or a colleague, but a friend."
There was only a brief delay as the interpreter paused from translating and watched Mrs. Grissom's reply. "And that's why I want to thank you. You've all meant so much to Gil that I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everything you've done for him."
Mrs. Grissom pointed to Sara and nodded to her interpreter before beginning to sign again. "You are Sara. Gil was so pleased that you agreed to move to Las Vegas and work with him here. Thank you for your hard work."
"You're welcome," was all a surprised Sara could think of to say.
Mrs. Grissom turned to Nick. "You must be Nick." She smiled at him. "My son has told me what a fine investigator you've become. He was certain you would do well. I'm very grateful to you for helping to find him."
Nick blushed slightly. "My pleasure, ma'am." His Texas drawl was a bit heavier than usual.
She touched his face briefly and then turned to Warrick.
"And you must be Warrick," she said through the interpreter. "Gil told me about the wonderful time he spent with you on the rollercoaster. He only shares those rides with friends. I'm so thankful to you for all your hard work."
"You're welcome," Warrick said softly.
Turning at last to Jim Brass, Mrs. Grissom touched his arm gently. "You must be Captain Brass. The Sheriff told me you are in charge of the case against Mr. Stankowski," the interpreter was saying. "Gil has had nothing but the highest regard for the work you do. I can't tell you how often he has been thankful for your help. Now I understand why."
Catherine looked at Jim and was certain she saw a hint of moisture in his eyes.
"I'm just glad he's going to be okay, ma'am," Jim told Mrs. Grissom. "We all want to make sure nothing like this happens again."
"Thank you," the interpreter said for Mrs. Grissom.
With that, Gil's mother turned to Catherine. There were tears in her eyes now. She gave Catherine a hug and then stepped back to sign to the interpreter. "You've been so wonderful. I don't know how I'll ever thank you enough."
"You don't have to thank us," Catherine said, not just for herself but for the whole team. "Gil means a lot to all of us."
The rest of the team nodded and voiced their agreement. Grissom would have done no less for any of them. It was the nature of their friendship with a man who was much more than a supervisor or co-worker. Gil was family, pure and simple.
Wednesday Afternoon 12:38 PM
Nick and Warrick spoke infrequently and in hushed tones. It was the unwritten code about visitation in a hospital room, especially when the person being visited was asleep.
They could only visit Grissom two at a time and for fifteen minutes. Those were the rules for visiting someone in ICU. The setting was a bit intimidating, to say the least. The two CSIs didn't want to wake their friend and contented themselves with just being near enough to hear him breathe. The doctor told all of them that he would recover fully. The surgery to set the broken bones in his wrist earlier that morning had been a complete success. They would be moving Grissom out of intensive care that afternoon. He had been extremely lucky that his injuries hadn't been worse. Luck aside, it would be a few weeks before Grissom could be back at work, and that would most likely prove to be the biggest challenge their friend had to face. Nick was saying as much when he heard Grissom's voice.
"Who won?"
Gil's voice was hoarse and his throat hurt with the effort exerted to speak, but he was pleased to know that he could talk at all. Opening his eyes, he found the surprised look he had expected on Warrick's face. Nick wore the same expression.
"Hey, Gris," Nick said tentatively. "You're awake."
Gil smiled weakly at Nick's comment. He must look like hell. People always made statements of the obvious when they didn't want to mention how bad something was. He decided to repeat his question. "Who won?" This time, his voice was a bit stronger.
Warrick and Nick exchanged a confused look. They weren't sure what to say. This was the first time they had been able to talk with Grissom since he had regained consciousness. He had been too weak to talk much before, and they weren't sure he was completely lucid.
"Won?" Warrick asked.
"The Series," Gil said.
This time Nick and Warrick exchanged looks of surprised understanding. Both younger men realized instantly that they had worried for nothing. Of course, Grissom had no way of knowing the outcome of the World Series, and baseball was his favorite sport.
Warrick smiled. "Anaheim in seven," he informed his friend.
Gil gave them a slight smile. "I hope you didn't lose too much, Nicky."
Nick laughed. "Not too much."
"I told him smart money was on Anaheim, but he just wouldn't listen," Warrick chided jokingly.
"That you did," Gil said. This last brought a cough on and with the cough was the pain. His ribs were still very sore. His grimace caused immediate concern from his companions.
The concern in Warrick's voice was edged with fear. "Gris? You okay?"
It took a moment for the pain to subside. All Gil could really manage right away was a weak nod. He was okay. The pain reminded him that he was alive. Not for the first time, he found himself grateful for that.