Title: Breathe
Author: Melanie-Anne (melsie04hotmail.com)
Rating: PG
Summary: "What matters is that she is here, next to him." Companion piece to "Tender is the Night." Cath's POV.
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
A/N: Because y'all asked so nicely, and I'm a sucker for feedback.
For Adrian, rest in peace.
Her hands, clasped together in her lap, are ice cold. The desert night is warm but here, now, this single room is cool. She's shaking too, but not from the temperature. This chill is in her heart. Her soul.
She almost smiles; she has never been so melodramatic.
Then again, she has never been so scared.
She knew from the moment the phone rang that something was wrong. The soft, female voice, too sympathetic. "Miss Willows, I'm terribly sorry. There's been an accident."
Her first thought: Something's happened to Lindsey!
Then the voice again. ". . . Gil Grissom . . . still in surgery . . ."
She'd had no idea Gil had listed her as his next of kin. It doesn't matter though. What matters is that she is here, next to him. Waiting for him to wake up. Watching him breathe.
The rise and fall of his chest. The steady beep of the heart monitor. Thin red and green lines moving across the screen. Pulse. Blood pressure. Rate of respiration. Science telling her that he is alive.
A police officer she doesn't recognize hovers in the doorway. She looks at him, but her attention is still completely focused on the man in the bed. She catches some of what the officer says, enough to piece together in her own mind what happened. She has always had a vivid imagination.
It's Grissom's night off. He's on his way to the cinema – there's a silent horror festival on. Tonight it's 'Nosferatu' and 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari'. He's crossing an intersection when a car, traveling at an obscene speed, jumps the red light and smashes into the passenger side of Grissom's car.
She jumps in her seat, blinks, returning to the present. At some point she should find out what happened to the other driver, she thinks.
She takes Grissom's hand. It is cold, like hers, and she threads her fingers through his. Her tears burn down her cheeks and fall onto their joined hands. She thinks of the fairytales Lindsey loves so much; if this were a fairytale, her tears would wake her prince.
But this is real life and she is not a princess. And experience has taught her to expect an unhappy ending.
"No," she whispers, "I will not watch another man I love die."
She wonders why the revelation is so surprising. She's loved Grissom for a long time. She just doesn't know when she fell in love with him.
She tries to pray but it doesn't feel right. Why should she expect a God she doesn't believe in to listen to her? She doesn't even know if Grissom returns her feelings.
It occurs to her that he might die without ever knowing how she feels.
"I love you, Gil Grissom."
If she was expecting a miraculous, fairytale wake up, she doesn't get it. So she lays her head down and listens to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat. Life is so fragile, she thinks. Dealing with death each day has almost inured her to it. And then there are moments like this, when she is reminded how easy life is to lose.
Minutes (hours?) later, there is movement. He squeezes her hand. She is instantly alert, searching her face for a sign that he's awake.
He opens his eyes and seems confused for a few seconds. She smiles, laughing and crying at the same time.
"Cath . . . What--?"
"Shh." She presses a finger to his lips. "There was an accident. You're in the hospital. But you're okay. You'll be okay."
She brushes his lips with hers, feels him murmur, "Stay with me?"
She smiles again, this time with no tears. "Always."