See, I didn't forget about this one. Sorry if the wait was a bit long for you! Hope you enjoy!
Some time later, a fully dressed Grissom was being pushed through the police station in a wheelchair. He'd fought the chair tooth and nail, but in the end it was conceded that the only way for him to get around would be to accept being helpless. And being helpless was a feeling that Gil Grissom hated more than anything. But he was glad to be out of the hospital, away from its sterile walls to more familiar territory.
The officer pushed him into the room where victims stood to view the line-up, where a few other officers proceeded to tell him how things worked, obviously not recognizing him for who he was. Grissom, though thoroughly annoyed, chose not to announce to them that he was only the top CSI of the whole nightshift. They handed him a piece of paper and a pen, explaining that all he had to do was to write down a number.
Grissom sighed and shook his head. This whole thing was going to be a waste of time. He didn't remember what the woman looked like. All he knew was a voice, and he doubted the women in the line-up could be forced to speak for him. He closed his eyes, losing himself in his memory.
He stepped inside his house, tossing the keys onto the counter before rummaging through the refrigerator in search of something edible. His back flamed with pain when he straightened up, and he leaned against the fridge for support. He shook his head, then reached into a drawer, grabbing some aspirin and taking it without water.
He had been eyeing his couch, trying to decide if he should curl up there or go into his bedroom. He decided that the couch was closer, but his bed would allow him to stretch out. He went to his CD player, trying to select something relaxing. He was still trying to decide what to put in when his skull erupted in white hot pain, sending him to the floor in a heap. Everything went black for a moment, but he was awakened by someone lifting his head from the floor by his hair.
"You'll pay for what you did…" a soft woman's voice told him quietly, filled with hatred.
"What did-" he began, winching as her grip on his hair grew tighter.
"Shut up!" she screamed, roughly kicking him in the kidneys and effectively silencing him. He then felt the barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of his neck. "Move, and you're dead." He heard a shifting in clothing as she kneeled down next to him. "And I really hope you do try something," she whispered. Then she left him, though he could still hear her footsteps as she moved about his house.
He slowly reaching into his shirt pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He shakily pressed speed dial 2, Sara. Why he had instinctively gone for her, he didn't know. He had just done it.
But he'd never gotten the phone to dial the number. Before he could press another button, the woman spotted him and kicked the phone from his hand. He cried out in pain and surprise as her shoes cut a deep gash in his hand and instinctively rolled onto his back to defend himself. He managed to catch sight of a brunette woman before everything went black again.
Grissom opened his eyes slowly. The following events were fuzzy. He remembered waking up in his bedroom and trying to stand up, using his wall for support as he waited for his head to clear. He'd heard a shout of alarm, then excruciating pain had erupted in his back and stomach.
He shook his head, his hand finding the bandage still covering his abdomen. They shot me from behind…he thought to himself. They? There were two! His eyes widened as realization set in. The shout was from a man's voice…
He felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked up into the face of Conrad Ecklie. He frowned. "Ecklie?"
Ecklie smiled. "Hello to you too, Grissom. Do you want to pay attention to the lineup, or do you not care if we find who did this to you?"
Grissom glared, but then turned to the two-way mirror that separated him from the women. When their number was called, the women in the line-up would step forward, turn to the side, then step back. He watched the first five women calmly, not recognizing a thing about them. Then the sixth woman stepped forward, her body language displaying her anger. Gil's jaw dropped. "Sara?"
One of the officers stepped forward almost eagerly. "Do you recognize her, sir?"
He turned to the cop. "Yeah! I'm her boss! What the hell is she doing in there?" he asked, struggling to turn the wheelchair towards Ecklie. "She can't be a suspect!"
"But she can, Mr. Grissom," Ecklie said quietly, mockingly.
Grissom frowned, the muscles in his jaw taunt. He then turned back to the mirror, where Sara was turning to the side. Her jaw was also set, and Grissom could see the anger and hurt in her eyes. Grissom shook his head, but kept silent.
All of the other women went, but Grissom still hadn't written down a name. Most of his time was spent staring at the shadow that was Sara. The last woman stepped back, then they were allowed to file out. Grissom watched Sara's figure until she disappeared from view, then turned to face Ecklie.
"I told you, I didn't get a good look at her face. If I could hear her, that would be something else."
Ecklie shrugged. "You seemed to have a good reaction to Ms. Sidle."
"Will you give it a rest, Ecklie?" Grissom shouted, wishing so much that he wasn't stuck in a wheelchair so he would hit the man. "I had a reaction to her because I work with her and know there's no way in hell she would have done it! Look at the evidence, Ecklie. Like you're supposed to! You'll see that there's no way it could have been Sara. Check the lab, they'll tell you that Sara was here when I was attacked."
With that, Grissom gave Ecklie one last go-to-hell look, then allowed the nurse who had accompanied him to push him out. They went past the DNA lab, where Greg was waiting for some results to finish. He spotted Grissom's familiar features and practically ran out of the lab, skidding to a stop in the hall. "Grissom!" he called.
The nurse stopped, allowing Grissom to turn. He gave Greg a small smile. "Hello Greg."
Greg stepped closer. "Great to see you, Gris. Everyone's been talking about you, you know. I mean, not in a bad way." He shook his head. "It really scared everyone. Things were all messed up around here until they said you were going to live."
Grissom shrugged, then glanced around. "What are you still doing here, Greg? Graveyard shift ended four hours ago."
Greg motioned to the lab. "I uh…got a little backlogged. So I was going to stay over and get it done."
"Better get it done," Grissom said, with a characteristic tilt of his head, signaling that the conversation was over.
Greg grinned. It was good to know that things hadn't changed that much.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grissom sighed as he looked over the photographs, tossing on down on the blanket. After his encounter with Greg, Grissom had paid a visit to his office. He'd found it cleaned and straightened up for him. Someone had even remembered to feed his tarantulas for him. The little gestures had put a smile on his face, and he made a mental note to treat all of graveyard to lunch when he was released.
He'd managed to get copies of lab reports and crime scene photos from his own case, though who he got them from would forever remain a secret. It was an odd thing for him. Looking at pictures of his own house, his bedroom wall and floor covered in blood. His blood. A small chill ran down his spine.
He glanced at a lab report. It showed that the blood from the smear on his bedroom door wasn't an attacker's blood. It was his own, having gotten there when the attacker wiped his/her bloody hands. Day shift had managed to get a few prints off of the blood on the door and his doorknob, but AFIS had spit them out as unknown. None of his neighbors had seen anyone odd that night, and no one had heard the gunshot. That made it impossible for the CSI's to get any type of suspect, or even a time of attack.
He sighed again, slowly pulling the glasses from his face and setting them down beside him. He rubbed his temples gently, feeling a migraine coming on. He glanced up at the door, wondering if he would be able to get a nurse to get him some medicine. He knew aspirin wouldn't do a thing, but was unsure if he would be able to get his prescription.
He was still thinking when the phone next to his bed rang. He groaned and reached over to pick it up, feeling the tension as the bandages on his abdomen stretched. He put the phone to his ear. "Yeah, Grissom."
"Hey," Sara's voice said over the phone. Grissom smiled to himself; just hearing her voice did wonders for his spirits. "How you doing?"
The smiled slowly wilted from Gris' face. Sara sounded tired, reserved tense. "Something wrong?"
He heard her sigh over the phone, and she was silent for a moment. "I'm fine. You?"
"I'm doing better…" he said, still unsure of what was bothering her. Then it hit him; the line-up. Perhaps she thought he was behind putting her in it. "Sara, is this about the line-up today?" he asked, then mentally kicked himself for the way he said it. He'd said it in the same way he had the 'hamburger' question.
She was silent for another long moment. "Maybe a little. It's just kind of hard, you know? Being accused of something I didn't do. Now I now how innocent suspects feel…"
He rubbed his temples again. "Sara, I didn't have anything to do with that. I didn't know you were in it until you stepped forward."
"I know, Grissom. I never thought you had a part in it."
Grissom breathed a sigh of relief. "Good to know." He glanced at the clock idly. "You coming to see me today? Be a nice break from all of the manly nurses," he joked.
"I don't think I should see you, Grissom. I mean, I am probably the main suspect in your attack. I'm sure it doesn't look right to Ecklie that I spend so much time with you."
Grissom was stunned silent by her words. "Sara…I…" He ran a hand through his hair, at a loss for words. "Sara, please. Don't do this to me. You don't understand how much-" he froze, unsure if he wanted to go further.
"How much what, Grissom?" Sara asked, just a bit of need in her voice.
He closed his eyes. "You don't understand how much I need you here with me now." There, he had said it. He had told her one of the secrets he held deepest in his heart. He held his breath, waiting for her reply.
There was a long moment of silence. Finally Sara spoke. "I'll be right there."