Thicker Than Water
By Bec
G/C
Disclaimer – See Chapter 1
Archive – www.graveyardshiftcsi.com
10
"We need medics down here"
Grissom and Catherine could hear the shouts from where they stood.
"Catherine, I need to get in there." He was desperate, and after deciding the policemen would not let them pass, Catherine searched for an alternative way in. She found one fairly quickly.
"Gil, this way," she whispered to him, grabbing his hand and leading him around the perimeter to where the ambulances stood.
They waited in silence. Catherine watched the house for someone to emerge while Grissom paced impatiently beside her. Occasionally someone wandered in or out, but there were no signs of casualties. The longer they waited, the less promising it became.
She jumped as her phone rang.
"Willows"
"Cath. It's Warrick."
"Hey, Warrick." She looked across to Grissom who seemed not to be paying attention to the call.
"Did you get them yet?"
"The police have gotten into the house. No one has come out yet."
"Are they hurt?"
"Aside from Maggie getting shot earlier, I don't know. Six shots were fired in the house."
"Damn." He paused a little. Catherine could imagine him hanging his head at the other end. "How's Gris holding up?"
"Grissom?" She looked up at him still pacing just a couple of feet away. She had said his name loud enough but he had not paid her any attention. "Not good. They won't let us into the house, understandably. But he's not happy about it."
"Can't say I blame him."
She heard a commotion starting outside the front door.
"Look Warrick, I've got to go."
"Keep me posted."
"Will do," and she hung up.
"Gil?" she called. He ignored her and continued pacing. She walked up and grabbed his arms. "Gil?"
He watched her.
"I think there's someone coming out."
Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he turned to the house, in time to see paramedics pulling a stretcher out towards them. He couldn't see who was on it.
"Catherine?" He reached back for her, grateful when she took his hand. He needed her stability right now.
"I'm here Gil."
They took a few steps forward to meet the stretcher, both praying for it to be something positive.
Catherine gasped when she saw who it was; Grissom could only stare, struck silent. It was not the worst sight they had ever seen, but this whole situation was different. They could see Maggie's face which had been cut up, the blood had covered her right down to the edge of the blanket. The bandaging over her right shoulder had turned a deep red colour. Catherine assumed this was the earlier gunshot wound. No other injuries were visible, but they could have been covered.
Grissom stood beside the unconscious woman as she was lifted into the ambulance as Catherine turned to a paramedic following behind.
"Any more?" The medic shook her head and Catherine could feel the tears coming instantly to her eyes. Somehow, she had to tell him.
She turned back to see him arguing with the medics by the ambulance.
"You don't understand. I have to come with you," he pleaded desperately.
"I'm sorry sir, but you can't."
"Sir," Catherine walked up to protest, knowing that the tears falling down her face would help their cause. "Please. That's our daughter," she argued, only partially lying. "I can't leave her any more. Not now."
The two medics looked at each other.
"Alright," they finally consented.
They climbed in and sat opposite Maggie, the doors closing behind them, and Jim Brass watched them go. He had seen what happened and came to the conclusion that he while he knew that there was more to the scene than met the eye, he did not know what it was. He'd never seen Grissom or Catherine act the way they had and despite the tragedy of it all, he was intrigued. He just hoped that there would be no more deaths before the day was through.
They sat in the room they had been ushered into, shortly after Maggie had been rushed into the trauma room, monotonous whines indicating a flat line as she went through the doors. Half an hour later, no one had been to see them, and Grissom was beyond panicking by now. Instead he just sat, afraid that any movement would destroy him.
"Grace is dead, isn't she?" he asked finally. Catherine had to strain to hear his quiet voice.
"I'm sorry, Gil." She closed her eyes and leant back in the chair. He'd been silent during the journey in the ambulance, and she had not known how to tell him.
"I hadn't thought about her until now. I can't believe I didn't." He felt that calling it guilt only just began to cover it. He should have thought of her before, just because he had not seen her meant he had not thought. Watching Maggie as they drove hurt him so much and he pushed all other thoughts away. It was not a possibility he had wanted to entertain at all.
"You can't feel guilty about that, Gil. Not when you had to deal with everything else that was in front of you." She watched, waiting for him to answer her. He stayed quiet even as the doctor entered the room.
"Mr. Grissom, Ms. Willows?"
"Is she ok?" Catherine asked standing up. Grissom stayed on his seat watching them.
"We've stabilised Maggie enough so that she can go for surgery. Her injuries are very severe, she's lost a lot of blood." The doctor looked at them wearily. He hated doing this. Telling upset relatives that they may lose someone they loved. "There were three separate gunshot wounds. One to her right shoulder, one to her right knee and one to her stomach, as well as extensive lacerations to her face and arms."
"What are her chances?" Catherine knew what he was trying to say.
"About thirty percent at best." He sighed. "I can't offer you any more. I'm sorry."
Catherine could not reply. She just watched the doctor, silently pleading with him to give them better odds. Instead, she nodded that she understood and returned to her seat opposite Grissom, who sat with his head in his hands.
"I'll come back to you when we're out of surgery." He bowed his head and left the room.
After a few moments of silence, Catherine stood again.
"I have to go and ring Nancy. I want to talk to Lindsey. Gil, will you be ok until I get back?"
He looked up at her and she could see the emotional strain in his face, the pain, the worry, the fear. He stood and walked over to her, standing a few centimetres away. He started to speak but found the words would not come. Catherine saw his hesitation and wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her in the hope she could give him some strength to get through the next hours in exchange for some strength of her own.
He clung to her. He did not want to let her go, just wanted to hold onto something and keep it. Especially Catherine. She knew him so well, she would know how to help him. He needed her to help him. He did not think he could get through this on his own. Eventually he let her go and looked down into her eyes.
"Go call your daughter," he told her, his voice surprisingly strong. Catherine leant up and gently kissed his cheek before heading out the door, looking back once to check on him.
Once she had gone, he sank into the chair, refusing to let sleep claim him. Instead, he allowed himself tears, not many, but enough to quell the torrent threatening to spill from his eyes, betraying how empty and afraid he felt on the inside. He sat, and cried, and hoped that Catherine would hurry back to stop him from feeling so alone.
TBC…
