A Season of Change Part 3
Hours ago it seemed, Warrick had heard Grissom and Sara's arguing from down the hall, in the layout room. Grissom's calm rational voice offsetting Sara's harsh agitated one. She had stomped off...and Grissom had not followed; unmoving, unwilling to let her temper throw him from his spot up on the white horse; keeping watch over his kingdom with undying calmness and little emotion.
But, the hours of night shift had waned, the coming of the early morning sun drenching its rays upon Las Vegas, signaling the end of shift for some. Warrick had stayed...examining a potential lead in the night's only case, while Grissom gave him a stoic goodbye, walking out the door promptly at 8 o clock.
"Hey Warrick..."
"Sara, Grissom's gone... coast is clear," he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice as the female CSI's shoulders relaxed and she entered the room.
"Very funny Warrick, did anyone ever tell you that you're just a barrel of laughs?" She slumped into a chair across the table from where he was standing, giving him that 'Don't mess with me look' she often used when someone happened to invade her bubble of self-protection.
"I try. Why are you still here?"
"Running prints on the case from the Monoco...I think our jumper may have had a little help."
"Ain't that a bitch?"
His eyes were fixated on the microscope before him, hands rapidly adjusting the focus knobs, his prior comment having somewhat of dual meaning. Curiosity found her, and idly she wondered what he could have discovered. Normally she would have gone to investigate, the thrill of new evidence enticing her, but at the moment she was content to sit there and wait for him to tell her what he found. But he didn't.
"So you and Grissom really had it out earlier."
"I would rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."
"He's right you know," Warrick replied, removing the slide out from under scope and placing it on the table. "We all have stuff, Sara. Things we don't talk about around the office. You, Me, Nick, Greg, Doc, Catherine, even Grissom--"
"That isn't the point. The point is that it's affecting us, the way we work. If we're going to be pushing more papers, and working more cases-for Catherine's sake, shouldn't she at least tell us why?"
"If it was that serious, I am sure she would."
"I think it is serious."
"What?"
"You heard me," she said softly, wringing her hands as she spoke.
"You think...that-"
"I said I think its serious...."
* * * * * * *
He stood on the stoop, hand poised, ready to knock. Then he stopped. 'She could be sleeping' he thought, testing the knob and finding it locked. Fishing for the key she had given him, he inserted it, opening the door slowly. Sure enough, he found her on the couch, sleeping peacefully.
Setting the groceries he'd bought and the surprise he'd found for her on the counter, Grissom set about making breakfast. Soon the smell of eggs, sautéed onions, and green pepper wafted through the house. He knew burritos were Catherine's favorite, so he had made a special trip, so he could make them for her.
"Count on you to come over and cook." A voice behind him stated, near to laughter.
"Someone has too. All those pop tarts and nutri-grain bars you feed your child. How are you feeling?"
"Better," she replied, situating herself on a stool nearby. "Glad your little escapades woke me up, I would have gotten up late...it smells wonderful Gil, thanks." Leaning over in her chair, in an action now very common, she brushed her lips against his cheeks. First the right one, and then the left, letting the warmth of his skin wash over her.
"What do you have to do today that's so important?"
"It's what we have to do, you said you would go with me... I made an appointment for eleven a.m. with Dr. Mendel...." Gazing at the colorful assortment of fixings on the counter, Catherine, bit her lip. "I don't know if my stomach can take all that..."
His blue eyes suddenly filled with guilt, upon realizing his folly. "I'm sorry, I...I could make you some soup, if you don't think you can eat this..."
"No...no...you went through the trouble. I have to at least try one."
A comfortable silence fell between the two as Grissom continued cooking. Catherine's elbows were on the counter, her head resting in her hands...eyes half closed. The sleep she had received on the couch had not sustained her for long, her energy long gone. Noting how the man in front of her had gone to great lengths to prepare her favorite breakfast for her, when it was set in front of her, she took a bite and let the taste wash over her tongue. Though she knew it wouldn't stay in her stomach for long, at least she could enjoy it now.
* * * * *
"Serious? Care to tell me where you got this information Sara?" Warrick asked, fire in his eyes as the two continued talking. Work had been abandoned long ago, in favor of the idle gossip Sara had begun to provide.
Ashamed, she turned away from him, picking herself up out of the chair and walking across the room. " I was angry...I still am...hadn't planned to stand there or anything. I was going to go back into Grissom's office and talk to him...I didn't mean to overhear."
"Yea..."
"Grissom...he was talking to Catherine, on the phone. He sounded worried, and you know Gris...stone-cold Grissom. From what I could gather, it had something to do with what happened earlier. Whatever that was."
"I'm not sure I should be hearing this Sara. It sounds personal...something Catherine doesn't want us to know about."
In all truth, Warrick wasn't sure what he could handle hearing. Catherine was a friend, a colleague. He too had his own suspicions, fears that ran deep within him. He knew he'd rather remain ignorant to the situation, than have Sara tell him, and he be forced to talk to Catherine about it. It wasn't any of his business, he knew that; so why couldn't Sara leave it be?
* * * * * *
Grissom had held back Catherine's hair as she threw up the remains of her breakfast into the toilet, her body rejecting the food. Afterwards he had held her, her tears staining his shirt. As he had looked down at her, he knew it was partially his own fault, and pangs of guilt hit his stomach. No one deserved to feel like this so close to Christmas, especially Catherine.
Now, an hour later, they were seated in the doctor's office, Catherine's hands clasped in her lap as she fiddled with her thumbs. The clock read 10:50, and soon she could no longer bear the wait, getting up and pacing the floor.
It was going to be a long day...
TBC....
Hours ago it seemed, Warrick had heard Grissom and Sara's arguing from down the hall, in the layout room. Grissom's calm rational voice offsetting Sara's harsh agitated one. She had stomped off...and Grissom had not followed; unmoving, unwilling to let her temper throw him from his spot up on the white horse; keeping watch over his kingdom with undying calmness and little emotion.
But, the hours of night shift had waned, the coming of the early morning sun drenching its rays upon Las Vegas, signaling the end of shift for some. Warrick had stayed...examining a potential lead in the night's only case, while Grissom gave him a stoic goodbye, walking out the door promptly at 8 o clock.
"Hey Warrick..."
"Sara, Grissom's gone... coast is clear," he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice as the female CSI's shoulders relaxed and she entered the room.
"Very funny Warrick, did anyone ever tell you that you're just a barrel of laughs?" She slumped into a chair across the table from where he was standing, giving him that 'Don't mess with me look' she often used when someone happened to invade her bubble of self-protection.
"I try. Why are you still here?"
"Running prints on the case from the Monoco...I think our jumper may have had a little help."
"Ain't that a bitch?"
His eyes were fixated on the microscope before him, hands rapidly adjusting the focus knobs, his prior comment having somewhat of dual meaning. Curiosity found her, and idly she wondered what he could have discovered. Normally she would have gone to investigate, the thrill of new evidence enticing her, but at the moment she was content to sit there and wait for him to tell her what he found. But he didn't.
"So you and Grissom really had it out earlier."
"I would rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."
"He's right you know," Warrick replied, removing the slide out from under scope and placing it on the table. "We all have stuff, Sara. Things we don't talk about around the office. You, Me, Nick, Greg, Doc, Catherine, even Grissom--"
"That isn't the point. The point is that it's affecting us, the way we work. If we're going to be pushing more papers, and working more cases-for Catherine's sake, shouldn't she at least tell us why?"
"If it was that serious, I am sure she would."
"I think it is serious."
"What?"
"You heard me," she said softly, wringing her hands as she spoke.
"You think...that-"
"I said I think its serious...."
* * * * * * *
He stood on the stoop, hand poised, ready to knock. Then he stopped. 'She could be sleeping' he thought, testing the knob and finding it locked. Fishing for the key she had given him, he inserted it, opening the door slowly. Sure enough, he found her on the couch, sleeping peacefully.
Setting the groceries he'd bought and the surprise he'd found for her on the counter, Grissom set about making breakfast. Soon the smell of eggs, sautéed onions, and green pepper wafted through the house. He knew burritos were Catherine's favorite, so he had made a special trip, so he could make them for her.
"Count on you to come over and cook." A voice behind him stated, near to laughter.
"Someone has too. All those pop tarts and nutri-grain bars you feed your child. How are you feeling?"
"Better," she replied, situating herself on a stool nearby. "Glad your little escapades woke me up, I would have gotten up late...it smells wonderful Gil, thanks." Leaning over in her chair, in an action now very common, she brushed her lips against his cheeks. First the right one, and then the left, letting the warmth of his skin wash over her.
"What do you have to do today that's so important?"
"It's what we have to do, you said you would go with me... I made an appointment for eleven a.m. with Dr. Mendel...." Gazing at the colorful assortment of fixings on the counter, Catherine, bit her lip. "I don't know if my stomach can take all that..."
His blue eyes suddenly filled with guilt, upon realizing his folly. "I'm sorry, I...I could make you some soup, if you don't think you can eat this..."
"No...no...you went through the trouble. I have to at least try one."
A comfortable silence fell between the two as Grissom continued cooking. Catherine's elbows were on the counter, her head resting in her hands...eyes half closed. The sleep she had received on the couch had not sustained her for long, her energy long gone. Noting how the man in front of her had gone to great lengths to prepare her favorite breakfast for her, when it was set in front of her, she took a bite and let the taste wash over her tongue. Though she knew it wouldn't stay in her stomach for long, at least she could enjoy it now.
* * * * *
"Serious? Care to tell me where you got this information Sara?" Warrick asked, fire in his eyes as the two continued talking. Work had been abandoned long ago, in favor of the idle gossip Sara had begun to provide.
Ashamed, she turned away from him, picking herself up out of the chair and walking across the room. " I was angry...I still am...hadn't planned to stand there or anything. I was going to go back into Grissom's office and talk to him...I didn't mean to overhear."
"Yea..."
"Grissom...he was talking to Catherine, on the phone. He sounded worried, and you know Gris...stone-cold Grissom. From what I could gather, it had something to do with what happened earlier. Whatever that was."
"I'm not sure I should be hearing this Sara. It sounds personal...something Catherine doesn't want us to know about."
In all truth, Warrick wasn't sure what he could handle hearing. Catherine was a friend, a colleague. He too had his own suspicions, fears that ran deep within him. He knew he'd rather remain ignorant to the situation, than have Sara tell him, and he be forced to talk to Catherine about it. It wasn't any of his business, he knew that; so why couldn't Sara leave it be?
* * * * * *
Grissom had held back Catherine's hair as she threw up the remains of her breakfast into the toilet, her body rejecting the food. Afterwards he had held her, her tears staining his shirt. As he had looked down at her, he knew it was partially his own fault, and pangs of guilt hit his stomach. No one deserved to feel like this so close to Christmas, especially Catherine.
Now, an hour later, they were seated in the doctor's office, Catherine's hands clasped in her lap as she fiddled with her thumbs. The clock read 10:50, and soon she could no longer bear the wait, getting up and pacing the floor.
It was going to be a long day...
TBC....