Chapter 34
Grissom arrived at Kane's office punctually at 10:00 a.m., but with a sense of trepidation. This was terra incognita for him on multiple levels. Kane hadn't set aside an entire hour to merely provide answers; the psychologist would have questions of his own. He suspected the journey would venture into territory which would be uncomfortable enough without Kane acting as a question-bearing sherpa.
As much as he wanted to help Sara, Grissom seriously worried he wouldn't be able to do so. It wasn't that he was unwilling to try. If that were true, he never would have returned to Kane's office. But his good intentions didn't change the fact of who he was or his past.
He knew, as a scientist, that a norm was a statistical construct. It was an average of the whole, not necessarily an accurate representation of any given individual. But Grissom also knew that the closest thing to 'normal' in his life was the setting he usually used on his washing machine.
The few times in the past when Grissom had bothered to think about this, he had concluded he was content with being a social anomaly. It was who he was. But now he found himself worrying if Sara could be content with someone so different from the norm.
More importantly, he feared what he would do if she wasn't.
His past experiences in relationships weren't stellar, either, and none of those women had been facing an emotional upheaval - other than dealing with him. If he had been inadequate then, why did he think he could make it work with Sara?
He hadn't been in love with any of those other women.
That revelation had hit him hard, although Grissom was unable to pinpoint the exact moment he had lost the ability to deny his feelings. Or had it been denial? The feelings had existed; but he had buried them to protect himself. Between his fears for Sara's physical safety and pain at being unable to help her, Grissom had been forced to acknowledge what his heart had hidden.
But that insulation was a habit which had begun before Sara was born. Now, it was a part of who he was. Sara may not have given up on him completely, but unless he found a way of letting her in, he knew he would eventually lose her. While he wanted to open up, it was also folly to think he would be able to change a lifetime of behavior quickly.
Since he had acknowledged his feelings, he lost his ability to imagine life without her. Despite his misgivings, he would at least make an effort, and that required he seek assistance. Being cognizant of that fact didn't make the reality any easier to face.
Kane could see the hesitation in Grissom's manner as he entered the room. It wasn't surprising given his nature; the exposure necessary in a counseling session would be unnerving for someone used to keeping people at a distance.
"Good morning, Gil. Have a seat. Coffee?" Kane said kindly.
"No thanks, Philip, I'm fine," he declined softly.
"Are you?"
"As far as caffeine levels goes, yes. Other than that?" Grissom shrugged. "Aren't you supposed to give me that answer?"
"I'm not Karnac; I can't provide the answers, Gil. I can help you find them, if you want," Kane chuckled softly, before turning serious again. "If all you want are answers about Sara, I'll do my best to provide them. You said last time you wanted to help her."
"I do," he said firmly.
"Is that because you're worried she's suicidal? Because of the research Warrick did?" Kane smiled as Grissom suddenly snapped his head up. "Yes, she knows about that. I can tell you, it didn't please her, but once she understood what triggered the concerns, she was more understanding. Gil, let me assure you, there is no reason to worry about that; she's not exhibiting any suicidal tendencies."
"You're certain?" he asked slowly.
"Yes. Gil, you know correlation doesn't imply causation. While there have been a number of well-documented cases of rescue personnel committing suicide after especially stressful situations, it's not clear-cut. There's no way of knowing whether they would have killed themselves eventually. But I'd stake my reputation on Sara's stability in that regard."
"Good," he said, letting out a drawn-out breath, hoping there was no regard in which Kane questioned her stability.
"Now that you know that isn't a concern, are you still interested in helping?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"She's already rejected you several times."
"She said she just needed time. I want to be there when she's ready."
"That rejection doesn't bother you?"
"She rejected my offers of assistance, not me personally," he said cautiously.
"Still, it must have been painful."
"It wasn't any more than what I deserved, Philip," Grissom sighed, explaining how he had withdrawn while facing his hearing difficulities. "But I guess Sara already told you this."
"Actually, all she mentioned was that your friendship had become strained. She never blamed you."
"She's too forgiving." Grissom gave the other man a searching look. "Is that why she won't let me help? She's afraid I'll pull back again? She doesn't trust me?"
Kane leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I'd say it's a safe bet that this factors into it. There are other factors in play, Gil, but, yes, that would be part of it."
"What other factors?"
The psychologist remained impassive. The truth was Sara was also facing a crisis of confidence and questioning the direction her life was headed. This was just an additional piece of the puzzle, but it was a useful piece.
"Sorry. I told you there were some things Sara preferred I not talk about. This is one of them. She's still figuring out some of the answers for herself."
"Okay. I won't push," Grissom gave Kane a brief smile. "You'll tell her, won't you? I learned my lesson about pushing?"
"Certainly," he chuckled. "I take it then that you want to work on this?"
"I do. That's why I'm here."
"That's fine, Gil, but that will take an active effort on your part. Let me reassure you, though, anything you say to me is strictly confidential. Would you be willing to talk to me?"
Grissom gave an eventual nod of his head.
"Okay. I know this is an uncomfortable situation and, to be blunt, it's going to get worse. You have to be honest, not only with me, but with yourself. I will try to keep the sessions at a comfortable pace. Let me know if it gets too rough. Also, this is entirely voluntary on your part. You can quit anytime you want."
"I'm not planning on quitting," he said softly.
"Good. Tell me, what exactly to you expect to come from this meeting?"
"A headache," he deadpanned. "Honestly, Philip, I'm uncertain. This, all of this, is completely new to me."
"Let's start off with some general questions, then, to break the ice. Why do you think you pulled back from Sara?"
It was Grissom's turn to laugh, although his lacked humor. "Philip, how many years have you known me? I didn't think I would need to tell you that answer."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. But the question remains: do you know what the problem is?"
"I don't play well with others," he sighed. "It's safer to retreat. I've never been good socially."
"Never? What about childhood friendships?"
"I didn't really have many."
"Why?"
"I was too different on too many levels. My hobbies were considered odd. I wasn't a jock. Even the other 'brains' considered me an outsider." He paused to rub his temples. While those factors were true, he also knew they weren't the only issues. "I came from a single-parent home in a time when that wasn't considered socially desirable. The fact my father left under suspicious circumstances didn't help."
"How old were you when he left?"
"Not quite six."
"What else?"
"My mother was deaf."
"And it was just the two of you after your father left?"
"Yes."
"So, you never talked at home?"
"Philip, I am very close to my mother. We communicated," Grissom said, trying not to sound defensive, wondering if his life was about to be turned into a cliché.
"Sorry, that was a poor choice of words on my part. I should have said you never vocalized. You used sign language, I assume? And, among the proficient, sign language moves beyond just the hands. You can't use your voice's inflection to impress a meaning, so you use a look or body language."
"Which probably wouldn't be obvious to someone else," Grissom said, seeing Kane's point. "I may have thought I was communicating more than I actually was."
"That's a possibility. Let's move forward a bit. How about adult friendships?"
"I still don't have many."
"Really? You certainly seem to get along well enough with your team."
"I'm on friendly terms with a lot of people, but there are very few would I actually call friends. Someone that I would turn to for personal problems."
"What about adult relationships?"
"Few and far between. The only one which could be considered 'serious' ended very badly," Grissom said cautiously. This was a subject he had never talked to anyone about, yet Catherine had recognized the 'third-degree burns' it had left.
"Sounds like you became used to being alone at an early age. This never bothered you before?"
"I'm not sure I would say it bothers me now. 'Your strength is in your solitude. If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself'," Grissom said. "From Da Vinci."
Kane smiled. "Da Vinci? Let's see: 'His urge was towards fantasy rather than reality, and his preference was for the unattainable; and from youth until the end of his life, he seemed always to be separate and enveloped in solitude.' I believe that was another one of his quotes."
"Da Vinci said a lot of things," he responded neutrally.
"True. Personally, I always preferred John Donne. 'No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.'"
Grissom removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Usually he enjoyed a verbal exchange with someone who was equally well-versed. But Kane had to pick that work. The ending seemed profound now. 'Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind and therefore never send for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.'
He considered the number of deaths he had seen over the years. Had he been diminished to the point of no return or had he withdrawn from humanity as a form of protection? Either option didn't seem hopeful. Sara, though, had retained her involvement. Could she be happy if he didn't make the attempt?
"Do you want to let Sara in?"
Kane's question startled him. He hadn't realized how lost he had become in his thoughts. Ultimately, this was why he was here. He didn't want the bell tolling for his future.
"Yes."
"You sound like you find the idea frightening."
Grissom remained silent for a moment. "It is, but not the way you're thinking. Yeah, if I let her in, I could be hurt. That's not a comforting thought. But I'm more worried about Sara. I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to build her hopes up, then have her find out I can't change enough for her."
"Change? How has Sara ever asked you to change?"
Grissom cocked his head as he tried to recall any time she requested he be anything other than himself. If anything, she said she had wanted to be more like him.
"Gil, I think you'll find that Sara accepts you for who you are. That doesn't mean that you can't make ... compromises ... which will make her happier. But you have to be willing to make the changes for yourself; you can't model yourself on someone else's expectations."
"I want to let her get closer, Philip. That's why I'm here," Grissom sighed, then gave Kane an apologetic shrug. "That doesn't mean I'm not nervous."
"'Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free'," said Kane.
Grissom wrinkled his forehead in thought as he tried to place the quote. "Santayana?"
"Jim Morrisson. I'm a forensic psychologist, Gil. 'People are Strange' is practically our anthem," Kane said with a laugh.
"Philip, will you tell Sara I'm trying?" he eventually asked.
"Is that what you want?"
"Honestly? No. I want to tell her myself, but I know I can't," he sighed. "And it's a trust thing. She's willing to waive her privacy because she was worried about me. My doing the same is the least I can do for her."
Grissom arrived at Kane's office punctually at 10:00 a.m., but with a sense of trepidation. This was terra incognita for him on multiple levels. Kane hadn't set aside an entire hour to merely provide answers; the psychologist would have questions of his own. He suspected the journey would venture into territory which would be uncomfortable enough without Kane acting as a question-bearing sherpa.
As much as he wanted to help Sara, Grissom seriously worried he wouldn't be able to do so. It wasn't that he was unwilling to try. If that were true, he never would have returned to Kane's office. But his good intentions didn't change the fact of who he was or his past.
He knew, as a scientist, that a norm was a statistical construct. It was an average of the whole, not necessarily an accurate representation of any given individual. But Grissom also knew that the closest thing to 'normal' in his life was the setting he usually used on his washing machine.
The few times in the past when Grissom had bothered to think about this, he had concluded he was content with being a social anomaly. It was who he was. But now he found himself worrying if Sara could be content with someone so different from the norm.
More importantly, he feared what he would do if she wasn't.
His past experiences in relationships weren't stellar, either, and none of those women had been facing an emotional upheaval - other than dealing with him. If he had been inadequate then, why did he think he could make it work with Sara?
He hadn't been in love with any of those other women.
That revelation had hit him hard, although Grissom was unable to pinpoint the exact moment he had lost the ability to deny his feelings. Or had it been denial? The feelings had existed; but he had buried them to protect himself. Between his fears for Sara's physical safety and pain at being unable to help her, Grissom had been forced to acknowledge what his heart had hidden.
But that insulation was a habit which had begun before Sara was born. Now, it was a part of who he was. Sara may not have given up on him completely, but unless he found a way of letting her in, he knew he would eventually lose her. While he wanted to open up, it was also folly to think he would be able to change a lifetime of behavior quickly.
Since he had acknowledged his feelings, he lost his ability to imagine life without her. Despite his misgivings, he would at least make an effort, and that required he seek assistance. Being cognizant of that fact didn't make the reality any easier to face.
Kane could see the hesitation in Grissom's manner as he entered the room. It wasn't surprising given his nature; the exposure necessary in a counseling session would be unnerving for someone used to keeping people at a distance.
"Good morning, Gil. Have a seat. Coffee?" Kane said kindly.
"No thanks, Philip, I'm fine," he declined softly.
"Are you?"
"As far as caffeine levels goes, yes. Other than that?" Grissom shrugged. "Aren't you supposed to give me that answer?"
"I'm not Karnac; I can't provide the answers, Gil. I can help you find them, if you want," Kane chuckled softly, before turning serious again. "If all you want are answers about Sara, I'll do my best to provide them. You said last time you wanted to help her."
"I do," he said firmly.
"Is that because you're worried she's suicidal? Because of the research Warrick did?" Kane smiled as Grissom suddenly snapped his head up. "Yes, she knows about that. I can tell you, it didn't please her, but once she understood what triggered the concerns, she was more understanding. Gil, let me assure you, there is no reason to worry about that; she's not exhibiting any suicidal tendencies."
"You're certain?" he asked slowly.
"Yes. Gil, you know correlation doesn't imply causation. While there have been a number of well-documented cases of rescue personnel committing suicide after especially stressful situations, it's not clear-cut. There's no way of knowing whether they would have killed themselves eventually. But I'd stake my reputation on Sara's stability in that regard."
"Good," he said, letting out a drawn-out breath, hoping there was no regard in which Kane questioned her stability.
"Now that you know that isn't a concern, are you still interested in helping?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"She's already rejected you several times."
"She said she just needed time. I want to be there when she's ready."
"That rejection doesn't bother you?"
"She rejected my offers of assistance, not me personally," he said cautiously.
"Still, it must have been painful."
"It wasn't any more than what I deserved, Philip," Grissom sighed, explaining how he had withdrawn while facing his hearing difficulities. "But I guess Sara already told you this."
"Actually, all she mentioned was that your friendship had become strained. She never blamed you."
"She's too forgiving." Grissom gave the other man a searching look. "Is that why she won't let me help? She's afraid I'll pull back again? She doesn't trust me?"
Kane leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I'd say it's a safe bet that this factors into it. There are other factors in play, Gil, but, yes, that would be part of it."
"What other factors?"
The psychologist remained impassive. The truth was Sara was also facing a crisis of confidence and questioning the direction her life was headed. This was just an additional piece of the puzzle, but it was a useful piece.
"Sorry. I told you there were some things Sara preferred I not talk about. This is one of them. She's still figuring out some of the answers for herself."
"Okay. I won't push," Grissom gave Kane a brief smile. "You'll tell her, won't you? I learned my lesson about pushing?"
"Certainly," he chuckled. "I take it then that you want to work on this?"
"I do. That's why I'm here."
"That's fine, Gil, but that will take an active effort on your part. Let me reassure you, though, anything you say to me is strictly confidential. Would you be willing to talk to me?"
Grissom gave an eventual nod of his head.
"Okay. I know this is an uncomfortable situation and, to be blunt, it's going to get worse. You have to be honest, not only with me, but with yourself. I will try to keep the sessions at a comfortable pace. Let me know if it gets too rough. Also, this is entirely voluntary on your part. You can quit anytime you want."
"I'm not planning on quitting," he said softly.
"Good. Tell me, what exactly to you expect to come from this meeting?"
"A headache," he deadpanned. "Honestly, Philip, I'm uncertain. This, all of this, is completely new to me."
"Let's start off with some general questions, then, to break the ice. Why do you think you pulled back from Sara?"
It was Grissom's turn to laugh, although his lacked humor. "Philip, how many years have you known me? I didn't think I would need to tell you that answer."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. But the question remains: do you know what the problem is?"
"I don't play well with others," he sighed. "It's safer to retreat. I've never been good socially."
"Never? What about childhood friendships?"
"I didn't really have many."
"Why?"
"I was too different on too many levels. My hobbies were considered odd. I wasn't a jock. Even the other 'brains' considered me an outsider." He paused to rub his temples. While those factors were true, he also knew they weren't the only issues. "I came from a single-parent home in a time when that wasn't considered socially desirable. The fact my father left under suspicious circumstances didn't help."
"How old were you when he left?"
"Not quite six."
"What else?"
"My mother was deaf."
"And it was just the two of you after your father left?"
"Yes."
"So, you never talked at home?"
"Philip, I am very close to my mother. We communicated," Grissom said, trying not to sound defensive, wondering if his life was about to be turned into a cliché.
"Sorry, that was a poor choice of words on my part. I should have said you never vocalized. You used sign language, I assume? And, among the proficient, sign language moves beyond just the hands. You can't use your voice's inflection to impress a meaning, so you use a look or body language."
"Which probably wouldn't be obvious to someone else," Grissom said, seeing Kane's point. "I may have thought I was communicating more than I actually was."
"That's a possibility. Let's move forward a bit. How about adult friendships?"
"I still don't have many."
"Really? You certainly seem to get along well enough with your team."
"I'm on friendly terms with a lot of people, but there are very few would I actually call friends. Someone that I would turn to for personal problems."
"What about adult relationships?"
"Few and far between. The only one which could be considered 'serious' ended very badly," Grissom said cautiously. This was a subject he had never talked to anyone about, yet Catherine had recognized the 'third-degree burns' it had left.
"Sounds like you became used to being alone at an early age. This never bothered you before?"
"I'm not sure I would say it bothers me now. 'Your strength is in your solitude. If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself'," Grissom said. "From Da Vinci."
Kane smiled. "Da Vinci? Let's see: 'His urge was towards fantasy rather than reality, and his preference was for the unattainable; and from youth until the end of his life, he seemed always to be separate and enveloped in solitude.' I believe that was another one of his quotes."
"Da Vinci said a lot of things," he responded neutrally.
"True. Personally, I always preferred John Donne. 'No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.'"
Grissom removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Usually he enjoyed a verbal exchange with someone who was equally well-versed. But Kane had to pick that work. The ending seemed profound now. 'Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind and therefore never send for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.'
He considered the number of deaths he had seen over the years. Had he been diminished to the point of no return or had he withdrawn from humanity as a form of protection? Either option didn't seem hopeful. Sara, though, had retained her involvement. Could she be happy if he didn't make the attempt?
"Do you want to let Sara in?"
Kane's question startled him. He hadn't realized how lost he had become in his thoughts. Ultimately, this was why he was here. He didn't want the bell tolling for his future.
"Yes."
"You sound like you find the idea frightening."
Grissom remained silent for a moment. "It is, but not the way you're thinking. Yeah, if I let her in, I could be hurt. That's not a comforting thought. But I'm more worried about Sara. I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to build her hopes up, then have her find out I can't change enough for her."
"Change? How has Sara ever asked you to change?"
Grissom cocked his head as he tried to recall any time she requested he be anything other than himself. If anything, she said she had wanted to be more like him.
"Gil, I think you'll find that Sara accepts you for who you are. That doesn't mean that you can't make ... compromises ... which will make her happier. But you have to be willing to make the changes for yourself; you can't model yourself on someone else's expectations."
"I want to let her get closer, Philip. That's why I'm here," Grissom sighed, then gave Kane an apologetic shrug. "That doesn't mean I'm not nervous."
"'Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free'," said Kane.
Grissom wrinkled his forehead in thought as he tried to place the quote. "Santayana?"
"Jim Morrisson. I'm a forensic psychologist, Gil. 'People are Strange' is practically our anthem," Kane said with a laugh.
"Philip, will you tell Sara I'm trying?" he eventually asked.
"Is that what you want?"
"Honestly? No. I want to tell her myself, but I know I can't," he sighed. "And it's a trust thing. She's willing to waive her privacy because she was worried about me. My doing the same is the least I can do for her."