'A Season of Change' Part Two
By: Allison and Manda
A/N: In my haste of putting out the first chapter I completely forgot to mention Manda's deep involvement in this fic. She has become my faithful and much appreciated co-author, starting at this part...Manda, I couldn't have done it without you. Thank You.
Not until she felt Grissom's arm wrap itself around her, did Catherine force herself to look at him. Bursts of color tore their way into her eyes, doubling the intense pounding that had begun in her head. 'Focus.' She cursed inwardly, the world spinning around like a roulette wheel at the MGM casino. When he pulled her onto her feet, she rose dutifully, aware only of the fact that he was leading her somewhere. And that his arms were around her.
"Grissom..." she murmured, her face hot against his cool skin. 'Only a few more steps to the door....' But her stomach grumbled in disagreement, bile building at the back of her throat.
"Come on Cath...a few more steps." Grissom's voice was urging her forward, and soon the night air was whipping at her face, onlookers baffled at the sight of them.
* * * * *
There was a dumpster in the back alleyway and Grissom led her there, rubbing her back in slow circular motion as she vomited up the contents of her stomach. Coughing and heaving for nearly five minutes, beads of sweat dripped off her brow; mingling with overbearing stench of rotten food.
"I don't think I have a stomach left," she managed to mutter, hands curled around the edges of the dumpster.
"Maybe not," Grissom pointed out a misshapen, leathery-gray lump half obscured by banana peels and spent coffee filters. "Or maybe....our evidence is on its way out with the garbage.
And Catherine vomited again.
"Great, now I'm contaminating the evidence," she sighed, resting her head on her hands for a moment.
"Evidence aside Catherine, you need to go home. Get some rest. It's been a long day...Warrick can handle this while I drop you off."
"Should I throw up in an evidence bag, so he can compare me against the DNA," she chuckled wearily; her feeble joke given with an equal weakness, and Grissom sighed deeply.
"I'm serious, you're taking things way to fast."
"I know. I'm just...a little scared. Okay? I don't know what happened. I was perfectly fine and then suddenly everything was spinning, and my head started pounding. I need...I need a second to process all of it."
"Well you go home and get some rest, and process your information, Catherine. We'll process ours."
"I don't have a choice do I?" Smiling at him she edged closer, shaking the hair out of her eyes.
"You always have a choice Catherine. You can rest up...or I can give you leave, whichever you prefer." He replied, his eyes twinkling, mystery playing upon his face.
"And what exactly is that supposed to--"
"You guys alright over there?"
"Yeah. Swiping the back of her hand over her mouth, Catherine cleared her throat and turned her head in the direction of Warrick's voice. "Yeah Warrick, we're fine."
"You're sure?" Grissom's query was soft, and as Warrick's footsteps drew could be heard advancing, he leaned closer as Catherine nodded. "I want you to go home Catherine. We'll handle this."
"Hey Cath." And Warrick appeared, then, Grissom withdrawing himself from Catherine's personal space as if stung by some invisible bee of indiscretion. "You gonna need a ride home?"
Catherine's lips moved, and Grissom tilted his head in momentary confusion. If it weren't for the fluid motion in which she spoke, he would never have pieced together her words... and even still, a moment passed from when she turned back to him, and he was able to respond, himself. Words were chosen carefully, in order to avoid arousing suspicion.
"Warrick I want you to stay behind and finish processing the scene...I have a few things I need to take care of back at the lab. I'll drop Catherine off on the way."
"Sure thing Grissom."
"My savior..." she muttered unpleasantly at the thought of being alone and miserable at home by herself. Moving towards them, she teetered slightly, using Grissom's shoulder to regain her equilibrium.
"Can you make it to the Tahoe?" Grissom asked, concern in his eyes.
"I don't need you to carry me, I can walk. Just stay close, okay?"
A look of understanding passed between the two elder CSI's, and Grissom slipped his hand around Catherine's waist once again. Completely comfortable in their present state of closeness, they started for Grissom's Tahoe, which was parked across the street.
"See ya Cath. Feel better."
"Thanks Warrick, see ya." Smiling weakly, she resisted laying her head on Grissom's shoulder.
As they walked off, Warrick sensed that they were leaving him out of the loop, but decided it was best to leave it be. Grabbing his fingerprint powder out of his kit, he returned to the task of processing the scene. His questions would have to wait until later...
* * * * *
It was nearing one a.m. when Sara and Nick returned from their crime scene, evidence in hand. Nick had rushed off to DNA, leaving Sara to take the photo negatives to the print lab.
Rifling through the folder of negatives en route, her gaze fell across a sheaf of papers, accidentally shoved into the collection of film, with Grissom's hasty scribbling across page after page of technical notes regarding insect movements. "Whatever this is...could be important." She muttered, and chose to investigate a detour, in the direction of Gil Grissom's isolated, insect-ridden office.
Not bothering to look up when she knocked on his door, Sara merely felt compelled to plop herself conveniently in the chair located in front of his desk. "Earth to Grissom? You there?"
"What can I do for you Sara?" He wasn't facing her; rather his back was turned as his head tilted to glance up above his desk, where a spider plant balanced precariously in its holder upon a high shelf. Sara recognized the piece as being a gift from Catherine's daughter, Lindsey, had presented to Grissom only months prior, on his birthday. Not a genuine article, the girl had been instructed to build it in art class, and creatively fashioned a lopsided clay centipede into a planter.
Sara found it clumsy and to childish for the workplace, but she lacked personal effects in her own workspace, and was well aware that her co-worker thought her cool for exercising that policy. Catherine had Lindsey. Grissom had....Lindsey, sometimes, when she'd visit, she'd shower him with handmade presents. And when that didn't happen he'd feed his racing cockroaches with great dedication and fervor. Nick would brag about his mom's home cooking and stick her picture in his locker...Warrick had his one-step-a-day list, to help curb his gambling addiction. But Sara, only Sara was alone. Sara Sidle had Sara Sidle and felt she needed nothing more than that.
"I was just wondering where Catherine was; I needed an opinion on some blood spatter found at our scene. Do you know where I can find her?" Sara replied, forgetting about the notes she had intended to return to him.
"She isn't here."
"Oh...well then where exactly is she? I thought she was working that jewelry store scene with you and Warrick."
"She was, I sent her home."
"You sent her home?" Sara echoed, eyebrows raised slightly. "Gosh Grissom, since when have you been so sensitive to our personal needs?"
"Since the strongest CSI I know threw up at crime scene." Grissom's response was simple, his stare level and unblinking.
Sara stared back, an expression of disbelief on her face. 'The strongest CSI I know..." the phrase bounced like a pinball in her head. Distinctly, she remembered the day last week when Catherine had refused to leave, even though Grissom had insisted upon it. And she also remembered Catherine's four and half month long absence; still unexplained except for a few quiet mutterings from Grissom. Strong? Maybe. But was she the strongest? Sara wasn't so sure.
"So she accepted your offer this time? Interesting..."
"Would you mind telling me what you're referring too?" he replied, his tone becoming slightly harsh.
"I'm TALKING, about the slack you've been cutting her the past few weeks, Grissom." She folded her arms lightly against her powder blue lab coat. "Look, I know Catherine's got a kid to support...but if you're going to keep letting her slack off when the rest of us are carrying her workload...sooner or later, you're going to have to tell us why."
"Catherine's putting in just as much overtime as the rest of us, Sara. She was sick; I sent her home. A CSI is no good if they're so sick they can't think straight; we all need to be at our best. As for her personal life, that is neither yours', nor the rest of CSI's, business. It's best not to lecture on something you know nothing about. If she sees fit to tell you what's going on in her life, fine. Otherwise, leave it be."
"Fine." She uncrossed her arms and stood there, just for a moment, dissatisfied expression spreading over her stagnant features. "When you talk to her, let her know we could use her help." She spun on her heels and left, Grissom remaining as he was, not watching her go. His mind was on Catherine at the moment, and he wondered if, perhaps, he should send her something...flowers maybe. Something orange to reflect the fire in her eyes when she found a clue that could solve a case in hours. Tigerlilies...she had always loved them. Sorrow passed over him as he realized they would have to wait, that because of Cath's condition they could further complicate the situation.
Picking up the phone to dial, he paused, holding his hand above the buttons. He'd just have to think of something else, after he had called Catherine. In his heart, he needed to make sure she was doing okay. Dialing quickly, he waited as the line rang twice before hearing the customary click of someone picking up.
"Hello. Lindsey? Could you get your mom for me?"
There was a momentary pause, a scuffle as Grissom imagined the child slipping down from the kitchen counter. The only way she could reach the phone was to climb onto the formica counter... and Catherine always hated that. After a second more had passed Catherine's voice breathless, came onto the line.
"Yeah Grissom?" She sounded winded, and he raised his brows in concern... which she couldn't see. "Sorry...I had to do Lindsey's laundry. She's in the school play tomorrow."
"You should be resting." Grissom berated her, gently. "Catherine, I'll stop by on my way off shift...Give you a hand."
"It's bad enough I'm going to miss the opening of Lindsey's play. I can't tell her she won't have a clean costume in time." Agitation had begun to creep into Catherine's tone, and she lapsed into silence for a moment. "Look Gil...I'm sorry. It's just..."
"I know." He wished for a moment he was there, that he could lend a hand and ease the pressure. "Don't worry about it, Catherine. Just promise me you'll get some rest afterwards?"
"I have to call the doctors' office first." She was rummaging around papers scratching against the table. "You'd think I would have the number memorized by now."
"I'm sure its just the flu.."
"But what if it isn't Gil? What if-"
"Didn't I tell you before to think positively?" He couldn't let her finish her sentence, couldn't bear to hear the words aloud again. "I'll even go with you. I promise everything will be fine, trust me, okay?"
He heard coughing on the other end, and the faint sound of her body lying down on the couch. At least she was taking a short break.
"I think I'm going to nap while her costumes in the dryer Gil. I'd better go. I should make that appointment..."
"Okay."
"And Gil....?" She yawned.
"Yea?"
"Thanks for coming...."
"Your welcome...now get some rest."
"Mmhmm...night. I love you Gil."
"I love you too," he replied smiling as he said the words; his worries lessened.
Setting the phone on the receiver, he gathered his files in preparation to meet up with Warrick. He didn't see the shadow peeking out from the doorway...the light causing it to cascade against the floor. Nor, did he see its exit, stealthily back into the depths of CSI, lying in wait to find the piece that would put this puzzle together.
TBC.
By: Allison and Manda
A/N: In my haste of putting out the first chapter I completely forgot to mention Manda's deep involvement in this fic. She has become my faithful and much appreciated co-author, starting at this part...Manda, I couldn't have done it without you. Thank You.
Not until she felt Grissom's arm wrap itself around her, did Catherine force herself to look at him. Bursts of color tore their way into her eyes, doubling the intense pounding that had begun in her head. 'Focus.' She cursed inwardly, the world spinning around like a roulette wheel at the MGM casino. When he pulled her onto her feet, she rose dutifully, aware only of the fact that he was leading her somewhere. And that his arms were around her.
"Grissom..." she murmured, her face hot against his cool skin. 'Only a few more steps to the door....' But her stomach grumbled in disagreement, bile building at the back of her throat.
"Come on Cath...a few more steps." Grissom's voice was urging her forward, and soon the night air was whipping at her face, onlookers baffled at the sight of them.
* * * * *
There was a dumpster in the back alleyway and Grissom led her there, rubbing her back in slow circular motion as she vomited up the contents of her stomach. Coughing and heaving for nearly five minutes, beads of sweat dripped off her brow; mingling with overbearing stench of rotten food.
"I don't think I have a stomach left," she managed to mutter, hands curled around the edges of the dumpster.
"Maybe not," Grissom pointed out a misshapen, leathery-gray lump half obscured by banana peels and spent coffee filters. "Or maybe....our evidence is on its way out with the garbage.
And Catherine vomited again.
"Great, now I'm contaminating the evidence," she sighed, resting her head on her hands for a moment.
"Evidence aside Catherine, you need to go home. Get some rest. It's been a long day...Warrick can handle this while I drop you off."
"Should I throw up in an evidence bag, so he can compare me against the DNA," she chuckled wearily; her feeble joke given with an equal weakness, and Grissom sighed deeply.
"I'm serious, you're taking things way to fast."
"I know. I'm just...a little scared. Okay? I don't know what happened. I was perfectly fine and then suddenly everything was spinning, and my head started pounding. I need...I need a second to process all of it."
"Well you go home and get some rest, and process your information, Catherine. We'll process ours."
"I don't have a choice do I?" Smiling at him she edged closer, shaking the hair out of her eyes.
"You always have a choice Catherine. You can rest up...or I can give you leave, whichever you prefer." He replied, his eyes twinkling, mystery playing upon his face.
"And what exactly is that supposed to--"
"You guys alright over there?"
"Yeah. Swiping the back of her hand over her mouth, Catherine cleared her throat and turned her head in the direction of Warrick's voice. "Yeah Warrick, we're fine."
"You're sure?" Grissom's query was soft, and as Warrick's footsteps drew could be heard advancing, he leaned closer as Catherine nodded. "I want you to go home Catherine. We'll handle this."
"Hey Cath." And Warrick appeared, then, Grissom withdrawing himself from Catherine's personal space as if stung by some invisible bee of indiscretion. "You gonna need a ride home?"
Catherine's lips moved, and Grissom tilted his head in momentary confusion. If it weren't for the fluid motion in which she spoke, he would never have pieced together her words... and even still, a moment passed from when she turned back to him, and he was able to respond, himself. Words were chosen carefully, in order to avoid arousing suspicion.
"Warrick I want you to stay behind and finish processing the scene...I have a few things I need to take care of back at the lab. I'll drop Catherine off on the way."
"Sure thing Grissom."
"My savior..." she muttered unpleasantly at the thought of being alone and miserable at home by herself. Moving towards them, she teetered slightly, using Grissom's shoulder to regain her equilibrium.
"Can you make it to the Tahoe?" Grissom asked, concern in his eyes.
"I don't need you to carry me, I can walk. Just stay close, okay?"
A look of understanding passed between the two elder CSI's, and Grissom slipped his hand around Catherine's waist once again. Completely comfortable in their present state of closeness, they started for Grissom's Tahoe, which was parked across the street.
"See ya Cath. Feel better."
"Thanks Warrick, see ya." Smiling weakly, she resisted laying her head on Grissom's shoulder.
As they walked off, Warrick sensed that they were leaving him out of the loop, but decided it was best to leave it be. Grabbing his fingerprint powder out of his kit, he returned to the task of processing the scene. His questions would have to wait until later...
* * * * *
It was nearing one a.m. when Sara and Nick returned from their crime scene, evidence in hand. Nick had rushed off to DNA, leaving Sara to take the photo negatives to the print lab.
Rifling through the folder of negatives en route, her gaze fell across a sheaf of papers, accidentally shoved into the collection of film, with Grissom's hasty scribbling across page after page of technical notes regarding insect movements. "Whatever this is...could be important." She muttered, and chose to investigate a detour, in the direction of Gil Grissom's isolated, insect-ridden office.
Not bothering to look up when she knocked on his door, Sara merely felt compelled to plop herself conveniently in the chair located in front of his desk. "Earth to Grissom? You there?"
"What can I do for you Sara?" He wasn't facing her; rather his back was turned as his head tilted to glance up above his desk, where a spider plant balanced precariously in its holder upon a high shelf. Sara recognized the piece as being a gift from Catherine's daughter, Lindsey, had presented to Grissom only months prior, on his birthday. Not a genuine article, the girl had been instructed to build it in art class, and creatively fashioned a lopsided clay centipede into a planter.
Sara found it clumsy and to childish for the workplace, but she lacked personal effects in her own workspace, and was well aware that her co-worker thought her cool for exercising that policy. Catherine had Lindsey. Grissom had....Lindsey, sometimes, when she'd visit, she'd shower him with handmade presents. And when that didn't happen he'd feed his racing cockroaches with great dedication and fervor. Nick would brag about his mom's home cooking and stick her picture in his locker...Warrick had his one-step-a-day list, to help curb his gambling addiction. But Sara, only Sara was alone. Sara Sidle had Sara Sidle and felt she needed nothing more than that.
"I was just wondering where Catherine was; I needed an opinion on some blood spatter found at our scene. Do you know where I can find her?" Sara replied, forgetting about the notes she had intended to return to him.
"She isn't here."
"Oh...well then where exactly is she? I thought she was working that jewelry store scene with you and Warrick."
"She was, I sent her home."
"You sent her home?" Sara echoed, eyebrows raised slightly. "Gosh Grissom, since when have you been so sensitive to our personal needs?"
"Since the strongest CSI I know threw up at crime scene." Grissom's response was simple, his stare level and unblinking.
Sara stared back, an expression of disbelief on her face. 'The strongest CSI I know..." the phrase bounced like a pinball in her head. Distinctly, she remembered the day last week when Catherine had refused to leave, even though Grissom had insisted upon it. And she also remembered Catherine's four and half month long absence; still unexplained except for a few quiet mutterings from Grissom. Strong? Maybe. But was she the strongest? Sara wasn't so sure.
"So she accepted your offer this time? Interesting..."
"Would you mind telling me what you're referring too?" he replied, his tone becoming slightly harsh.
"I'm TALKING, about the slack you've been cutting her the past few weeks, Grissom." She folded her arms lightly against her powder blue lab coat. "Look, I know Catherine's got a kid to support...but if you're going to keep letting her slack off when the rest of us are carrying her workload...sooner or later, you're going to have to tell us why."
"Catherine's putting in just as much overtime as the rest of us, Sara. She was sick; I sent her home. A CSI is no good if they're so sick they can't think straight; we all need to be at our best. As for her personal life, that is neither yours', nor the rest of CSI's, business. It's best not to lecture on something you know nothing about. If she sees fit to tell you what's going on in her life, fine. Otherwise, leave it be."
"Fine." She uncrossed her arms and stood there, just for a moment, dissatisfied expression spreading over her stagnant features. "When you talk to her, let her know we could use her help." She spun on her heels and left, Grissom remaining as he was, not watching her go. His mind was on Catherine at the moment, and he wondered if, perhaps, he should send her something...flowers maybe. Something orange to reflect the fire in her eyes when she found a clue that could solve a case in hours. Tigerlilies...she had always loved them. Sorrow passed over him as he realized they would have to wait, that because of Cath's condition they could further complicate the situation.
Picking up the phone to dial, he paused, holding his hand above the buttons. He'd just have to think of something else, after he had called Catherine. In his heart, he needed to make sure she was doing okay. Dialing quickly, he waited as the line rang twice before hearing the customary click of someone picking up.
"Hello. Lindsey? Could you get your mom for me?"
There was a momentary pause, a scuffle as Grissom imagined the child slipping down from the kitchen counter. The only way she could reach the phone was to climb onto the formica counter... and Catherine always hated that. After a second more had passed Catherine's voice breathless, came onto the line.
"Yeah Grissom?" She sounded winded, and he raised his brows in concern... which she couldn't see. "Sorry...I had to do Lindsey's laundry. She's in the school play tomorrow."
"You should be resting." Grissom berated her, gently. "Catherine, I'll stop by on my way off shift...Give you a hand."
"It's bad enough I'm going to miss the opening of Lindsey's play. I can't tell her she won't have a clean costume in time." Agitation had begun to creep into Catherine's tone, and she lapsed into silence for a moment. "Look Gil...I'm sorry. It's just..."
"I know." He wished for a moment he was there, that he could lend a hand and ease the pressure. "Don't worry about it, Catherine. Just promise me you'll get some rest afterwards?"
"I have to call the doctors' office first." She was rummaging around papers scratching against the table. "You'd think I would have the number memorized by now."
"I'm sure its just the flu.."
"But what if it isn't Gil? What if-"
"Didn't I tell you before to think positively?" He couldn't let her finish her sentence, couldn't bear to hear the words aloud again. "I'll even go with you. I promise everything will be fine, trust me, okay?"
He heard coughing on the other end, and the faint sound of her body lying down on the couch. At least she was taking a short break.
"I think I'm going to nap while her costumes in the dryer Gil. I'd better go. I should make that appointment..."
"Okay."
"And Gil....?" She yawned.
"Yea?"
"Thanks for coming...."
"Your welcome...now get some rest."
"Mmhmm...night. I love you Gil."
"I love you too," he replied smiling as he said the words; his worries lessened.
Setting the phone on the receiver, he gathered his files in preparation to meet up with Warrick. He didn't see the shadow peeking out from the doorway...the light causing it to cascade against the floor. Nor, did he see its exit, stealthily back into the depths of CSI, lying in wait to find the piece that would put this puzzle together.
TBC.