Surrendering part 3- Conversations in the Evening After
(A/N: This has been a long, long time in coming, and I apologize. Not quite he epilogue I think you'd expect, but let's leave Gil and Heather some privacy, ok? Still not mine, and after the fourth season I'm kinda happy about it.)
Catherine was staring at him again. She'd been giving him knowing looks all night, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Not that he saw that much of her, since she was still paired with Nick, but Gil knew she knew something, and it bothered him. The night went well, despite that small irritation. It seemed the last child whose body had been found two nights before had managed to take a good sized chunk out of his attacker before he died, and there was still some of it in his mouth. Getting any good identification out of it would be difficult, but Gil trusted Greg's abilities. The lead cheered him immensely. In fact, it raised the spirits of the entire team, even those who weren't on the case. Besides, after a night and half a day with Lady Heather, followed by a solid six hours of sleep, Gil was a whole new man. But Catherine still knew something. As the shift drew to a close, Gil braced for impact.
"Hey Grissom," She leaned against his open door to his office, where he was inspecting some slides through a microscope. He looked up at her, trying for innocent and getting mostly worried, "wanna come over for breakfast?"
Hell, better at her place with a few drinks in him than at the office, Gil thought. "That would be nice."
"Great. Let's go, then- I have to get Lindsey to school. Without a backwards glance she walked away, leaving him to rush through putting his papers in order and run out of the building. Sliding into his car for the first time in three days, he was grateful Catherine was taking her own car and couldn't see him fidget and shift in his seat the entire drive to her house. Despite the 24 hours that had passed, sitting was still not high on his priority list. Perversely, he almost enjoyed the pain, a reminder of the wonderful night he'd had. He was still relieved when he got to Catherine's, though. Lindsey was already dressed and ready for school, drinking her milk at the kitchen table. When she caught sight of them, she put the cup down hard enough to slosh milk all over the table and ran to greet them.
"Mommy! Uncle Gil!" Gil only just managed to avoid a hug, "I'm so glad you're here on time..." Her eyes narrowed, "Are you staying for breakfast?" Gil nodded, smiling, and realized again how much he liked seeing the girl happy, "Oh, goodie! But...Mommy, can I stay with you? Just this once?"
"No, baby." Catherine shook her head, "You need to go to school, and you know that." Lindsey gave her mom her best puppy eyes, which Catherine could resist after long years of practice, but which still made Gil melt, "Come on, or you'll miss the bus."
"Why don't we take you out for ice cream after school?" Gil suggested. He vaguely remembered that Catherine disapproved of these outings, but he just couldn't send her to school this miserable. Catherine scowled at him, but Lindsey's squeals of delight were worth it. Catherine kept up the frown as she saw her daughter and the babysitter off, and Gil busied himself with wiping up the spilt milk from the table. When she turned to him, still frowning, he tried to avoid the impending storm. "Catherine..."
"Don't 'Catherine' me, Gil, "She said, exasperated. Still, she smiled at him ruefully, "It's a good thing you don't come over very often, or that girl would be spoiled rotten. It's almost cute how she turns you into a big teddy bear."
Gil blushed slightly, "What can I say, she's adorable. Has been since day one." He'd seen her then, hours after birth, as he waited at the hospital with all the nervous fathers, not even bothering to explain that he wasn't the husband, just a colleague who'd cared enough to drive her to the hospital. He smiled at the memory, and saw the smile echoed on Catherine's face.
"Your usual?" She asked, heading for the kitchen.
"Please." He followed, "Lots of ice." With a familiarity bred out of countless mornings in her kitchen, he pulled eggs out of the fridge, found a frying pan and started scrambling eggs for both off them. Catherine handed him his drink and sipped at her own, watching him. She tried to mask her amusement as he scooped eggs and toast on two plates, passed one to her, then leaned casually against the counter instead of sitting down. Evidently she didn't quite succeed, because he gave her a questioning look. "What?"
"What what?" she looked innocent.
"You've been acting like a cat who got the canary all day, Cath." He sighed, "If you have something to say, say it."
"Oh, I don't have anything to say," She replied smugly, "Except that I hope you remembered to give Lady Heather my regards."
His shoulders slumped. "You went to my apartment after shift yesterday?"
"During." She corrected. "Did you really think I wouldn't, after I found your note?"
"Not really." he shrugged, resigned to his fate. "Well, go on." He said when she didn't continue.
"Go on what?"
"Asking me whether I'm crazy, teasing," He raised an eyebrow, "imagining."
"I am not imagining!" She blushed furiously, throwing an olive at him. But she was, of course.
"Uh huh." Gil nodded, "She does send her regards, though." Now that Catherine knew, he thought maybe it wasn't so bad.
"So." Catherine had kept silent with difficulty for nearly a minute.
"So?"
"Had to be something big on your mind if you went to her. I'm guessing you did more than talk- even Brass noticed you're walking kinda stiffly tonight."
"I knew working with trained investigators was a bad idea." Gil shook his head, "And no, I'm not telling you. Going over it once with Lady Heather was bad enough."
"She actually got you to talk? Amazing. If I'd known pain was the way to go, I'd have invested in some equipment and done it myself years ago." Catherine's smile took most of the threat out of her words, but not all. Gil shuddered.
"No, thank you. I much prefer your regular method. Hurts less. Speaking of, I need a refill." Her method was to get him as drunk as he allowed her to, in an effort to lower at least some of his walls. Most days he stopped after one; some, he'd let her get him really drunk. Today seemed mostly normal, with an extra bit in to calm his nerves. Catherine predicted he'd stop after that one.
"OK then, talk to me. You've done it once with Lady Heather- how hard can it be?"
"You have no idea." He took a long gulp of his scotch. It's now or never, Grissom, he told himself. Deep breath to steady himself, then he mumbled into his glass, "I'mlosingmyhearing."
"What?" Catherine wasn't quite certain she'd heard right.
"I'm losing my hearing." Gil stressed each word carefully. It wasn't getting easier, saying it over and over again, and he bafflement of Catherine's face wasn't helping.
"But...How, why, and can you do anything about it?" The investigator in Catherine can to the forefront, leaving the rest of her to deal with the shock of the revelation.
"Well..." Gil hedged, although a barrage of questions was easier to deal with than a more emotional response. "I found out last year, it's hereditary- otosclerosis- it causes the bones in your ears to harden. There's a possibility of surgery, but I'm not sure..." He looked down, "I've kind of been in denial for a while."
"You can say that again." Catherine was past the shock now, and working her way towards anger at having this information kept from her, "You've known for a year? I can't believe none of us figured it out. We all thought you were just spacier than usual."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you..." Gil tried, but the words were empty. "And I can't believe none of you saw it, either. Some investigating team you are."
As usual, Gil's attempt at humor fell flat as Catherine's eyes narrowed in anger, "Oh, so it's our fault now?" He tried to back away but she gripped his arm, "You're not running away, Gil. You can't just drop something like this in my lap and leave."
"I'm not leaving," Gil pulled his hand away abruptly, "And you have every right to be angry."
"Damn straight I do!" Catherine agreed, "Jesus Gil, I'm your best friend...Still," She stopped him before he could defend himself, "I think I would've done the same thing in your position. You've never been one to ask for help." She sighed, "I'm sorry I yelled."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Gil repeated quietly, meaning it this time. "It's hard to tell people something you're not telling yourself." It was hard on him, her anger, and the disappointment he could see in her eyes. He knew the others would be the same, veiled disappointment and hurt- maybe not so veiled, even. He grew tired of standing, and sat down as far from Catherine as he could, wincing slightly as he did. She hid a smirk behind her hand, breaking the somber mood.
"I suppose it is." she agreed, "So, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Like I said, surgery is an option, and from what I've heard and read there's a high chance of success, but..." He shrugged, "I don't know."
"Do you have a second opinion, or have you spent the entire year wallowing in self pity?" The question came out harsher than she meant it to, and Catherine regretted the words almost as soon as she'd said them. They hung in the air between them heavily. He answered, his face set, his words clipped and precise.
"That wasn't very nice, Cath."
"I know it wasn't. I'm not even going to say I didn't mean it." Catherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You went through this once already- what am I supposed to say? This isn't like you, Gil."
His eyes hardened, "What isn't? Sharing?"
"That too." Catherine conceded, "But I meant running away from stuff like this. It's not like you." He was always the strong one, the one who kept her from running away.
"Cath, this is the scariest thing that's ever happened to me." Gil tried to explain tiredly, "I wasn't thinking too clearly. I just didn't want to deal with it. And since I somehow managed to hide it, I didn't have to. It would've come up eventually, I'm sure, but..."
"You weren't going to bring it us yourself, huh?" Catherine looked at him carefully, seeing the fatigue even half a day of sleep couldn't erase, the fear and worry in his eyes, and found it very difficult to stay angry. "Been there, done that. Welcome to the river." He smiled at that, but they both soon grew serious again. "Gil, what if it happens at work? In the field, or in court, or during questioning?" He chuckled joylessly.
"Already happened a few times. Even in court. I don't think anybody noticed." Except for Philip, but she didn't need to know that.
Catherine's lips pursed in a frown. "You're going to be in trouble when this gets higher up, you know."
"I know. Hell, even if they don't fire me, I'll have to qit." He felt his heart tear a bit every time he said that or thought about it. Catherine's hand was on his again, warm and comforting.
"You don't have to." She promised forcefully, "Sure, you might be limited but you're still the best thing that's happened to the department in years. They won't want to lose you- we'll figure something out. Besides, you don't know surgery won't do it." She paused, thinking about his options. "You'll have to teach us to sign."
"I can read lips." He scowled, waving her away. She glared at him, holding his eyes until he lowered them. Not many people, not even Catherine, could usually stare him down, but she was angry and he knew she was right. "Yes, okay, I'll teach you to sign. You, at least. God, Cath," He gave her a slightly desperate look, "I don't think I can do this." She scooted closer to him and hugged him hard. Puzzled but grateful, he raised an eyebrow, "What's that for?"
"You looked like you needed it. And there are more where that came from, so get used to the idea." Catherine nearly laughed at his bafflement. "You can do this, Gil. We'll help you."
"I don't need-"He started again, then stopped at her dagger-glare. "I don't want your help." He amended quietly.
"I know. That's why I said you're going to get it whether you like it or not. I assumed you wouldn't." She kept one hand draped across his shoulder, grounding him in reality before he had a chance to escape into his mind, keeping him seated when he wanted to get up and leave. "But we will all want to help you however we can. It'll be harder if you fight us, but we'll still do it. I like a challenge."
Gil really thought he should remove her hand. It was unprofessional and inappropriate, but really very comforting. Her being there did make it easier. "There's...There's really very little you can do." He repeated, "I mean, I wouldn't want-"
"To impose?" She stopped him again, serious again. "You're not. Believe me, there isn't one of us who wouldn't do anything to help. Is that so hard to accept?"
It was, and Gil wasn't as certain of it as she was. Besides, why would they want to help, and what could they do, anyway? He wasn't used to needing people. His skepticism was clear, and Catherine sighed.
"Fine, don't believe me. You'll see I'm right tonight when you tell everybody."
"Tonight?" He croaked. It was too soon by far. He needed time, needed to prepare himself, wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Going over it so many times in such a short time was wearing him out.
"Not better time." Catherine declared, nodding. At his obvious reluctance she shook her head. "You'll have to talk to them eventually, Gil, just to get it over with." Then she said the words he truly dreaded, "If you don't tell them, I will."
"You have no right to do that, Catherine." He replied coldly, just this side of anger again.
"I can and I will. For the good of the team, before somebody gets hurt. Before somebody notices, and they will, you know. They'll want to know, Gil."
"That's the problem!" He burst out, not quite shouting but angry all the same. "I don't want my private life feeding the rumor mill. I don't want them staring at me, I don't want them whispering about me, I don't want them to know! Any of them." he office rumor industry was a prospering business, and like the looks, the gossip wouldn't go away as they had in the past. His privacy would be forfeit, stripped away on the alter of full disclosure. It would be irritating at best, drive him insane at worst.
"Grissom, you can't hide this forever!" Catherine was equally angry now, "There won't be any rumors or gossip if you just told people to their faces." His stubborn refusal to understand was really starting to anger her.
"Oh, so I should just come up to people and say 'good evening, how are you and by the way, I'm going deaf'? That would make me a real hit at dinner parties." Where was the bitterness coming from? Catherine didn't deserve this. It wasn't her fault and it wasn't fair. He stood up. "I'm going home before we both say more things we'll regret later." He knew without checking that his pulse was way, way past ninety. She made no move to stop him as he walked to the door, and he was too busy with angry, bitter thoughts to notice the sudden lack of ambient noise. He slammed the car door behind him, sat down hard, ignoring the pain lancing up to his shoulders fro the impact. The moment he turned the key, though, he realized he wasn't going anywhere. The radio lights came on, but no sound. He clapped his hands once- nothing. Well, he was stuck there until it passed. He didn't even trust himself to walk home, unfocused as he was. He'd probably never see a coming car. He had nothing to do but think and get angry- at himself for losing his temper, at Catherine for making him lose it, at the unfairness of life. His phone vibrated in his pocket- Catherine, of course. He turned it off without answering. Shoulders slumped, every inch of him showing defeat, he got out of the car and back to her house. The door opened before he had a chance to knock. He looked at her wordlessly. Her eyes filled with tears. Silently, she ushered him back in.
"Don't cry, Cath..." He said, not hearing himself but knowing from the relief on her face that it came out right. "Please...It's not that bad." He hated to see her cry. He still couldn't hear anything, but she made an effort to speak clearly though her vouce was unsteady.
"I'm sorry- I shouldn't be- I mean, you're not- oh, hell." She swallowed, "It's a lot to take in." He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and pointed at it, then at a pen lying on the coffee table. No kidding. She gave a shaky laugh at that, and added her own scribble. Is this how it's going to be?
Hope not. He wrote back, still not trusting his voice, Put in for surgery yesterday morning. They said six weeks. Thank God, she wasn't that close to tear anymore. Sorry I walked out.
It's OK. Sorry I let you. Catherine pulled him down to the sofa again and hugged him again. With a wrenching 'pop' the sounds of the world snapped in again and he flinched. "What? Is it back?"
"Yeah. Dizzy. Sorry."
"Stop apologizing already! You've done enough of it. It's okay."
"You know, this is so much worse than I thought it would be." He admitted, "I thought nothing could be worse than Lady Heather's reaction, but... this is different. Worse."
"What did she do?" Catherine couldn't help asking. Gil grimaced.
"Never mind. Let's just say that if I died today Doc Robbins would have an interesting puzzle on his hands."
Catherine whistled quietly, "That bad?" She took his hand and turned it over, "No marks."
"She's very discreet. She was careful." He pulled away, "Could we not talk about that?"
"Yeah, I'm getting the most disturbing mental image here. And this is still worse?"
"Yes. I should've told you. I let you down."
"Stop dwelling on that." Catherine frowned again, "Start thinking on how you can fix it." A thought occurred to her then- "Gil, have you told your mother?" She was the only one of the team who'd met her. Gil's face was all the answer she needed. "You haven't, have you?" He shook his head, "Oh, Gil...How could you?"
"How could I tell her? I'm a big boy, Catherine, I don't need to tell my mother everything." But she was right again, and she knew it. "Why should she worry needlessly?"
"She'd want to know, and you know it. Unlike us, she could actually help you deal with this better. She's been there- she's still 'there', in fact." Catherine considered this new fact for a moment, "You know, I think you should take this weekend off and go see her. You haven't done it in over a year, and this isn't the kind of thing you could tell her by e-mail."
"I'm not going anywhere." Gil planted his figurative heels irately, "And you can stop this right now."
"Fine. It'll only take me one call to let her know, same as with the team. One call, that's all it's going to take to bring her here, if you won't go there. You know she'll come." Catherine steeled herself for the stricken look on Gil's face. She was hurting him, but she had to do it.
"You wouldn't."
"I would." She replied firmly, "She loves you, and you can't give me the worrying her excuse- you'll just end up hurting both of you."
"I don't know why I put up with you sometimes." Gil grumbled, ready to give in. He loved his mother dearly, after all. "I'll talk to my mom later today, alright? When I get home. And I think I really should leave before you talk me into anymore insanity."
"Now that you mention it, you don't eat enough vegetables..." She smirked.
"Quiet! I have spent the last 48 hours bullied by women who think they're helping. No more. I'm going to go home, have a beer and watch sports." He smiled as well.
"We are helping, honey." She grinned at him, "And you're being stubborn, as always. Now go home and go to sleep. I have a phone-call to make."
"Oh?"
"I need to call Lady Heather and thank her. And maybe get a few tips for next time you get stubborn." At the scheming look in her eyes Gil blushed furiously and retreated as fast as he could, her laughter trailing after him.
As he drove home that morning, he could finally smile. Maybe things would turn out alright anyway.
(A/N: This has been a long, long time in coming, and I apologize. Not quite he epilogue I think you'd expect, but let's leave Gil and Heather some privacy, ok? Still not mine, and after the fourth season I'm kinda happy about it.)
Catherine was staring at him again. She'd been giving him knowing looks all night, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Not that he saw that much of her, since she was still paired with Nick, but Gil knew she knew something, and it bothered him. The night went well, despite that small irritation. It seemed the last child whose body had been found two nights before had managed to take a good sized chunk out of his attacker before he died, and there was still some of it in his mouth. Getting any good identification out of it would be difficult, but Gil trusted Greg's abilities. The lead cheered him immensely. In fact, it raised the spirits of the entire team, even those who weren't on the case. Besides, after a night and half a day with Lady Heather, followed by a solid six hours of sleep, Gil was a whole new man. But Catherine still knew something. As the shift drew to a close, Gil braced for impact.
"Hey Grissom," She leaned against his open door to his office, where he was inspecting some slides through a microscope. He looked up at her, trying for innocent and getting mostly worried, "wanna come over for breakfast?"
Hell, better at her place with a few drinks in him than at the office, Gil thought. "That would be nice."
"Great. Let's go, then- I have to get Lindsey to school. Without a backwards glance she walked away, leaving him to rush through putting his papers in order and run out of the building. Sliding into his car for the first time in three days, he was grateful Catherine was taking her own car and couldn't see him fidget and shift in his seat the entire drive to her house. Despite the 24 hours that had passed, sitting was still not high on his priority list. Perversely, he almost enjoyed the pain, a reminder of the wonderful night he'd had. He was still relieved when he got to Catherine's, though. Lindsey was already dressed and ready for school, drinking her milk at the kitchen table. When she caught sight of them, she put the cup down hard enough to slosh milk all over the table and ran to greet them.
"Mommy! Uncle Gil!" Gil only just managed to avoid a hug, "I'm so glad you're here on time..." Her eyes narrowed, "Are you staying for breakfast?" Gil nodded, smiling, and realized again how much he liked seeing the girl happy, "Oh, goodie! But...Mommy, can I stay with you? Just this once?"
"No, baby." Catherine shook her head, "You need to go to school, and you know that." Lindsey gave her mom her best puppy eyes, which Catherine could resist after long years of practice, but which still made Gil melt, "Come on, or you'll miss the bus."
"Why don't we take you out for ice cream after school?" Gil suggested. He vaguely remembered that Catherine disapproved of these outings, but he just couldn't send her to school this miserable. Catherine scowled at him, but Lindsey's squeals of delight were worth it. Catherine kept up the frown as she saw her daughter and the babysitter off, and Gil busied himself with wiping up the spilt milk from the table. When she turned to him, still frowning, he tried to avoid the impending storm. "Catherine..."
"Don't 'Catherine' me, Gil, "She said, exasperated. Still, she smiled at him ruefully, "It's a good thing you don't come over very often, or that girl would be spoiled rotten. It's almost cute how she turns you into a big teddy bear."
Gil blushed slightly, "What can I say, she's adorable. Has been since day one." He'd seen her then, hours after birth, as he waited at the hospital with all the nervous fathers, not even bothering to explain that he wasn't the husband, just a colleague who'd cared enough to drive her to the hospital. He smiled at the memory, and saw the smile echoed on Catherine's face.
"Your usual?" She asked, heading for the kitchen.
"Please." He followed, "Lots of ice." With a familiarity bred out of countless mornings in her kitchen, he pulled eggs out of the fridge, found a frying pan and started scrambling eggs for both off them. Catherine handed him his drink and sipped at her own, watching him. She tried to mask her amusement as he scooped eggs and toast on two plates, passed one to her, then leaned casually against the counter instead of sitting down. Evidently she didn't quite succeed, because he gave her a questioning look. "What?"
"What what?" she looked innocent.
"You've been acting like a cat who got the canary all day, Cath." He sighed, "If you have something to say, say it."
"Oh, I don't have anything to say," She replied smugly, "Except that I hope you remembered to give Lady Heather my regards."
His shoulders slumped. "You went to my apartment after shift yesterday?"
"During." She corrected. "Did you really think I wouldn't, after I found your note?"
"Not really." he shrugged, resigned to his fate. "Well, go on." He said when she didn't continue.
"Go on what?"
"Asking me whether I'm crazy, teasing," He raised an eyebrow, "imagining."
"I am not imagining!" She blushed furiously, throwing an olive at him. But she was, of course.
"Uh huh." Gil nodded, "She does send her regards, though." Now that Catherine knew, he thought maybe it wasn't so bad.
"So." Catherine had kept silent with difficulty for nearly a minute.
"So?"
"Had to be something big on your mind if you went to her. I'm guessing you did more than talk- even Brass noticed you're walking kinda stiffly tonight."
"I knew working with trained investigators was a bad idea." Gil shook his head, "And no, I'm not telling you. Going over it once with Lady Heather was bad enough."
"She actually got you to talk? Amazing. If I'd known pain was the way to go, I'd have invested in some equipment and done it myself years ago." Catherine's smile took most of the threat out of her words, but not all. Gil shuddered.
"No, thank you. I much prefer your regular method. Hurts less. Speaking of, I need a refill." Her method was to get him as drunk as he allowed her to, in an effort to lower at least some of his walls. Most days he stopped after one; some, he'd let her get him really drunk. Today seemed mostly normal, with an extra bit in to calm his nerves. Catherine predicted he'd stop after that one.
"OK then, talk to me. You've done it once with Lady Heather- how hard can it be?"
"You have no idea." He took a long gulp of his scotch. It's now or never, Grissom, he told himself. Deep breath to steady himself, then he mumbled into his glass, "I'mlosingmyhearing."
"What?" Catherine wasn't quite certain she'd heard right.
"I'm losing my hearing." Gil stressed each word carefully. It wasn't getting easier, saying it over and over again, and he bafflement of Catherine's face wasn't helping.
"But...How, why, and can you do anything about it?" The investigator in Catherine can to the forefront, leaving the rest of her to deal with the shock of the revelation.
"Well..." Gil hedged, although a barrage of questions was easier to deal with than a more emotional response. "I found out last year, it's hereditary- otosclerosis- it causes the bones in your ears to harden. There's a possibility of surgery, but I'm not sure..." He looked down, "I've kind of been in denial for a while."
"You can say that again." Catherine was past the shock now, and working her way towards anger at having this information kept from her, "You've known for a year? I can't believe none of us figured it out. We all thought you were just spacier than usual."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you..." Gil tried, but the words were empty. "And I can't believe none of you saw it, either. Some investigating team you are."
As usual, Gil's attempt at humor fell flat as Catherine's eyes narrowed in anger, "Oh, so it's our fault now?" He tried to back away but she gripped his arm, "You're not running away, Gil. You can't just drop something like this in my lap and leave."
"I'm not leaving," Gil pulled his hand away abruptly, "And you have every right to be angry."
"Damn straight I do!" Catherine agreed, "Jesus Gil, I'm your best friend...Still," She stopped him before he could defend himself, "I think I would've done the same thing in your position. You've never been one to ask for help." She sighed, "I'm sorry I yelled."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Gil repeated quietly, meaning it this time. "It's hard to tell people something you're not telling yourself." It was hard on him, her anger, and the disappointment he could see in her eyes. He knew the others would be the same, veiled disappointment and hurt- maybe not so veiled, even. He grew tired of standing, and sat down as far from Catherine as he could, wincing slightly as he did. She hid a smirk behind her hand, breaking the somber mood.
"I suppose it is." she agreed, "So, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Like I said, surgery is an option, and from what I've heard and read there's a high chance of success, but..." He shrugged, "I don't know."
"Do you have a second opinion, or have you spent the entire year wallowing in self pity?" The question came out harsher than she meant it to, and Catherine regretted the words almost as soon as she'd said them. They hung in the air between them heavily. He answered, his face set, his words clipped and precise.
"That wasn't very nice, Cath."
"I know it wasn't. I'm not even going to say I didn't mean it." Catherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You went through this once already- what am I supposed to say? This isn't like you, Gil."
His eyes hardened, "What isn't? Sharing?"
"That too." Catherine conceded, "But I meant running away from stuff like this. It's not like you." He was always the strong one, the one who kept her from running away.
"Cath, this is the scariest thing that's ever happened to me." Gil tried to explain tiredly, "I wasn't thinking too clearly. I just didn't want to deal with it. And since I somehow managed to hide it, I didn't have to. It would've come up eventually, I'm sure, but..."
"You weren't going to bring it us yourself, huh?" Catherine looked at him carefully, seeing the fatigue even half a day of sleep couldn't erase, the fear and worry in his eyes, and found it very difficult to stay angry. "Been there, done that. Welcome to the river." He smiled at that, but they both soon grew serious again. "Gil, what if it happens at work? In the field, or in court, or during questioning?" He chuckled joylessly.
"Already happened a few times. Even in court. I don't think anybody noticed." Except for Philip, but she didn't need to know that.
Catherine's lips pursed in a frown. "You're going to be in trouble when this gets higher up, you know."
"I know. Hell, even if they don't fire me, I'll have to qit." He felt his heart tear a bit every time he said that or thought about it. Catherine's hand was on his again, warm and comforting.
"You don't have to." She promised forcefully, "Sure, you might be limited but you're still the best thing that's happened to the department in years. They won't want to lose you- we'll figure something out. Besides, you don't know surgery won't do it." She paused, thinking about his options. "You'll have to teach us to sign."
"I can read lips." He scowled, waving her away. She glared at him, holding his eyes until he lowered them. Not many people, not even Catherine, could usually stare him down, but she was angry and he knew she was right. "Yes, okay, I'll teach you to sign. You, at least. God, Cath," He gave her a slightly desperate look, "I don't think I can do this." She scooted closer to him and hugged him hard. Puzzled but grateful, he raised an eyebrow, "What's that for?"
"You looked like you needed it. And there are more where that came from, so get used to the idea." Catherine nearly laughed at his bafflement. "You can do this, Gil. We'll help you."
"I don't need-"He started again, then stopped at her dagger-glare. "I don't want your help." He amended quietly.
"I know. That's why I said you're going to get it whether you like it or not. I assumed you wouldn't." She kept one hand draped across his shoulder, grounding him in reality before he had a chance to escape into his mind, keeping him seated when he wanted to get up and leave. "But we will all want to help you however we can. It'll be harder if you fight us, but we'll still do it. I like a challenge."
Gil really thought he should remove her hand. It was unprofessional and inappropriate, but really very comforting. Her being there did make it easier. "There's...There's really very little you can do." He repeated, "I mean, I wouldn't want-"
"To impose?" She stopped him again, serious again. "You're not. Believe me, there isn't one of us who wouldn't do anything to help. Is that so hard to accept?"
It was, and Gil wasn't as certain of it as she was. Besides, why would they want to help, and what could they do, anyway? He wasn't used to needing people. His skepticism was clear, and Catherine sighed.
"Fine, don't believe me. You'll see I'm right tonight when you tell everybody."
"Tonight?" He croaked. It was too soon by far. He needed time, needed to prepare himself, wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Going over it so many times in such a short time was wearing him out.
"Not better time." Catherine declared, nodding. At his obvious reluctance she shook her head. "You'll have to talk to them eventually, Gil, just to get it over with." Then she said the words he truly dreaded, "If you don't tell them, I will."
"You have no right to do that, Catherine." He replied coldly, just this side of anger again.
"I can and I will. For the good of the team, before somebody gets hurt. Before somebody notices, and they will, you know. They'll want to know, Gil."
"That's the problem!" He burst out, not quite shouting but angry all the same. "I don't want my private life feeding the rumor mill. I don't want them staring at me, I don't want them whispering about me, I don't want them to know! Any of them." he office rumor industry was a prospering business, and like the looks, the gossip wouldn't go away as they had in the past. His privacy would be forfeit, stripped away on the alter of full disclosure. It would be irritating at best, drive him insane at worst.
"Grissom, you can't hide this forever!" Catherine was equally angry now, "There won't be any rumors or gossip if you just told people to their faces." His stubborn refusal to understand was really starting to anger her.
"Oh, so I should just come up to people and say 'good evening, how are you and by the way, I'm going deaf'? That would make me a real hit at dinner parties." Where was the bitterness coming from? Catherine didn't deserve this. It wasn't her fault and it wasn't fair. He stood up. "I'm going home before we both say more things we'll regret later." He knew without checking that his pulse was way, way past ninety. She made no move to stop him as he walked to the door, and he was too busy with angry, bitter thoughts to notice the sudden lack of ambient noise. He slammed the car door behind him, sat down hard, ignoring the pain lancing up to his shoulders fro the impact. The moment he turned the key, though, he realized he wasn't going anywhere. The radio lights came on, but no sound. He clapped his hands once- nothing. Well, he was stuck there until it passed. He didn't even trust himself to walk home, unfocused as he was. He'd probably never see a coming car. He had nothing to do but think and get angry- at himself for losing his temper, at Catherine for making him lose it, at the unfairness of life. His phone vibrated in his pocket- Catherine, of course. He turned it off without answering. Shoulders slumped, every inch of him showing defeat, he got out of the car and back to her house. The door opened before he had a chance to knock. He looked at her wordlessly. Her eyes filled with tears. Silently, she ushered him back in.
"Don't cry, Cath..." He said, not hearing himself but knowing from the relief on her face that it came out right. "Please...It's not that bad." He hated to see her cry. He still couldn't hear anything, but she made an effort to speak clearly though her vouce was unsteady.
"I'm sorry- I shouldn't be- I mean, you're not- oh, hell." She swallowed, "It's a lot to take in." He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and pointed at it, then at a pen lying on the coffee table. No kidding. She gave a shaky laugh at that, and added her own scribble. Is this how it's going to be?
Hope not. He wrote back, still not trusting his voice, Put in for surgery yesterday morning. They said six weeks. Thank God, she wasn't that close to tear anymore. Sorry I walked out.
It's OK. Sorry I let you. Catherine pulled him down to the sofa again and hugged him again. With a wrenching 'pop' the sounds of the world snapped in again and he flinched. "What? Is it back?"
"Yeah. Dizzy. Sorry."
"Stop apologizing already! You've done enough of it. It's okay."
"You know, this is so much worse than I thought it would be." He admitted, "I thought nothing could be worse than Lady Heather's reaction, but... this is different. Worse."
"What did she do?" Catherine couldn't help asking. Gil grimaced.
"Never mind. Let's just say that if I died today Doc Robbins would have an interesting puzzle on his hands."
Catherine whistled quietly, "That bad?" She took his hand and turned it over, "No marks."
"She's very discreet. She was careful." He pulled away, "Could we not talk about that?"
"Yeah, I'm getting the most disturbing mental image here. And this is still worse?"
"Yes. I should've told you. I let you down."
"Stop dwelling on that." Catherine frowned again, "Start thinking on how you can fix it." A thought occurred to her then- "Gil, have you told your mother?" She was the only one of the team who'd met her. Gil's face was all the answer she needed. "You haven't, have you?" He shook his head, "Oh, Gil...How could you?"
"How could I tell her? I'm a big boy, Catherine, I don't need to tell my mother everything." But she was right again, and she knew it. "Why should she worry needlessly?"
"She'd want to know, and you know it. Unlike us, she could actually help you deal with this better. She's been there- she's still 'there', in fact." Catherine considered this new fact for a moment, "You know, I think you should take this weekend off and go see her. You haven't done it in over a year, and this isn't the kind of thing you could tell her by e-mail."
"I'm not going anywhere." Gil planted his figurative heels irately, "And you can stop this right now."
"Fine. It'll only take me one call to let her know, same as with the team. One call, that's all it's going to take to bring her here, if you won't go there. You know she'll come." Catherine steeled herself for the stricken look on Gil's face. She was hurting him, but she had to do it.
"You wouldn't."
"I would." She replied firmly, "She loves you, and you can't give me the worrying her excuse- you'll just end up hurting both of you."
"I don't know why I put up with you sometimes." Gil grumbled, ready to give in. He loved his mother dearly, after all. "I'll talk to my mom later today, alright? When I get home. And I think I really should leave before you talk me into anymore insanity."
"Now that you mention it, you don't eat enough vegetables..." She smirked.
"Quiet! I have spent the last 48 hours bullied by women who think they're helping. No more. I'm going to go home, have a beer and watch sports." He smiled as well.
"We are helping, honey." She grinned at him, "And you're being stubborn, as always. Now go home and go to sleep. I have a phone-call to make."
"Oh?"
"I need to call Lady Heather and thank her. And maybe get a few tips for next time you get stubborn." At the scheming look in her eyes Gil blushed furiously and retreated as fast as he could, her laughter trailing after him.
As he drove home that morning, he could finally smile. Maybe things would turn out alright anyway.