Chapter 2: You Can't Hide Forever
It was seven o'clock in the morning when Catherine pulled up in front of Grissom's apartment building. She had never had any intention of returning home – Lindsey was being cared for, and right now Grissom needed her, even if he wouldn't admit it. Knocking, she waited for a minute to see if he would answer. "Grissom, come on, you can't hide forever," she called. When no one answered she frowned angrily, and tried the door. It was unlocked, and swung inwards to reveal Grissom sitting slumped on his sofa, head in his hands. An open bottle of migraine pills sat on the coffee table in front of him. "Grissom," she sighed. He didn't move. "Damn it," Catherine muttered as she locked the door behind her. Pulling off her jacket and tossing it onto the chair by the door she went and sat next to Grissom. For a moment he was still, and then he seemed to realize that she was sitting next to him, and he lunged to his feet in surprise. "Jesus, Catherine," he snapped, putting a hand to his head at the sudden wave of pain that ripped through his brain. "Just relax, Gris," she said quietly, grabbing his arm to steady him as he swayed dizzily. "Take it easy."
"Catherine, what the hell are you doing here?" he mumbled, feeling like he was going to pass out. "Taking care of you," she muttered in reply as she led him into his room and turned out the light. The fact that he followed without question told her how out of it he really was. "Lay down," she ordered, and he seemed to collapse onto the bed. "Cath," he mumbled, "I... Nothing's wrong, Cath," he whispered, but his voice had an almost pleading quality, as though he was begging her to reassure him. She shook her head, and then realized he wasn't looking at her, but rather staring at the ceiling with a dazed look in his eyes. She sat down on the bed beside him. "It's all right, Gris. Everything's all right," she assured him. The dazed look in his eyes was suddenly overshadowed by one of sadness and pain, and then he turned away from her. "Thanks, Cath," he said, but his voice was defeated as he drifted off to sleep. For a minute she sat there next to him, watching him sleep. His face was relaxed, and free of worry – he looked years younger, and Catherine thought about how much weight he carried, and took upon himself for his team's sake. His struggle to keep his life ordered and neat and free of complications was taking its toll on him, and she began to wonder how much longer he could keep this up. She knew his intense sense of privacy wasn't helping matters, and if only he would let someone in, he might be able to get through this in one piece. But, of course, Grissom never talked to anyone about his problems. He insisted on bottling it up and carrying it alone. She suspected it had become instinct for him to hide any feelings he might have – he thought he needed to set an example for his team on the need to keep personal lives separate from work. He didn't seem to realize that his apparent lack of emotion in certain situations was crushing his relationships with his colleagues. His fear of letting people see the real Gil Grissom and all his emotions was slowly but surely tearing him apart. "You're killing yourself, Gris," she whispered to him, running her hand lightly through his curly hair. "You're killing yourself and you don't even realize it." She stood then, and with one last long look at him, she left the room.
Closing Grissom's bedroom door softly after her, Catherine rubbed a hand over her face tiredly and took up Grissom's abandoned position on the sofa. Picking up the bottle of pills before her, she put the lid back on and inspected the label. Strong stuff. But then, Grissom probably needed it right about now. She was pulled out of her thoughts by the persistent grumbling of her stomach demanding to be fed. With a sigh, she set the bottle of pills back down and set herself to making some breakfast in Grissom's small kitchen. It wasn't hard to find anything – he was extremely organized, and everything had its place. In one of his cupboards she found a loaf of bread and some peanut butter, and she had just sat down to eat when someone started pounding on the door.
"Grissom!" Sara's familiar voice called, "open up!" For a moment, there was silence, and then Catherine heard Nick. "Come on, Grissom, we know you're in there." More banging followed, and Catherine shook her head and stood, abandoning her sandwich. She didn't want to risk them waking up Grissom. "I'm coming," she called, annoyed. "Keep it down," she muttered as an afterthought, even though they couldn't hear her. She would have bet ten bucks that Warrick and Greg were there as well. She was proved right when she opened the door and came to face with her colleagues. She frowned at their shocked faces. "Come in," she snapped, "but keep it down, Grissom's sleeping."
"I thought you were going home," Greg accused, but her glare shut him up. "And leave Grissom to be picked over and abused by you four? I don't think so."
"We weren't..." Sara began to protest, and Nick responded with "Hey..." but Catherine cut them off. "You were coming here to force it out of him. Don't bother trying to convince me otherwise," she reprimanded, turning her back on them and going back to the table to finish her sandwich. "Well, that would seem to be the only way," Sara retorted. "And don't tell me you weren't here to do the same thing." Catherine raised her eyebrow at Sara, who stared back at her defiantly. The guys glanced at each other uneasily, feeling the tension in the room. For minute it looked as though Catherine was going to get angry, but then she relaxed. "I was. But then I realized he really doesn't need that right now. He just... He needs us to be there for him, even if he won't admit it." At her words, the tension seemed to dissipate from the room almost instantly, to be replaced by a sad, depressing weight. The only sound in the room was the soft rustling of clothes as the small group took seats around the table with Catherine, to wait for Grissom to wake. Catherine finished off her breakfast, and put the plate in the sink. Then, returning to her seat, she eased herself down into the uncomfortable silence that reigned. She didn't know how long they sat there like that, silently, waiting, before she realized how dumb this probably was. They couldn't just sit here until Grissom woke up – it could be hours before he did. "Listen, guys," she said tiredly, "I doubt Grissom is going to wake up anytime soon, so you might as well go home and get some sleep. We still have to work tonight." The group at the table exchanged looks. "And what are you going to do?" Sara asked. Catherine looked her in the eye, sensing the challenge in the words. "I'm going to sleep on the couch," she replied, voice emotionless. "I'd invite you all to share it with me, but I don't think you'd fit. Besides, I've become rather used to having it to myself."
"So, you stay over here quite a bit?" Greg asked innocently, a mischievous look in his eye. He should have known better to mess with Catherine, though. Her eyes sparkled with anger at his suggestion, and she looked like she could have snapped his neck in half. No one noticed that the look on Sara's face was as angry, if not more so. "Don't you even think it, Greg Sanders," Catherine said, voice cold. "Grissom and I are friends, nothing more." Then, her voice seemed to lighten, and her eyes lost their iciness. "You could say it's a love-hate relationship. Kind of like a sister and brother." A comfortable silence fell over them as they thought about that. Then Catherine's voice once again broke through the silence softly. "We take care of each other. When he's in the mood to actually let someone into his life."
"Yeah, we've noticed he doesn't do that too often, hey?" Warrick said lightly. Nick grinned, relieved that Catherine hadn't given Greg too much of a tongue-lashing. He didn't think they needed to be fighting amongst them selves right now. "Ain't that jus' the truth," he drawled, accent heavy. It had the desired effect as the group chuckled quietly together. "Whatever, cowboy," Sara said, grinning as she quickly covered up the anger she had felt before. Then she became serious. "Cath, I'm not leaving until I see Grissom. Seriously. I'll sleep on that big chair." She waved her arm vaguely in the direction of Grissom's living room. Nick pretended to glare at her. "Fine, I'll just have to take the floor." Catherine stared at them. "You can't..."
"They can, and they will," Warrick said, amused. "I guess I'm on the floor as well." They all turned to look at Greg, who shrugged. "Floor." Then he grinned. "I always did like sleepovers." Catherine sighed. "Fine. Sara, come help me the blankets and pillows and things."
"Thanks Cath, you're so kind," Warrick said sweetly. The grin was wiped off his face as Catherine cuffed him in the back of the head as she passed him. "Hey," he protested indignantly. "Watch it," Catherine responded, a smile pulling at her lips. Sara, shaking her head, followed Catherine into Grissom's room. In the darkness, she could just make out Grissom's form on the bed, and the only sound in the room was his soft, even breathing as he slept. She, like Catherine, realized how much more relaxed he looked in sleep, and how open his face was. Catherine noticed the way the younger woman was looking at Grissom, and she smiled. "You never really realize how much he carries until you see him like this, huh?" she said quietly. Sara turned to stare at her. "Yeah," she whispered. Then, awkwardly, she shrugged. "We should get those blankets." "Yeah," Catherine replied. She was just pulling them out of the closet when Grissom's breathing suddenly quickened. Surprised, the two both turned to look, to find him shaking his head, his face twisted in fear. "Grissom," Sara called, hoping to wake him.
In the kitchen, Warrick heard the worry in Sara's voice as she called Grissom's name. "What the..." Standing, he made his way to the bedroom, feeling Nick and Greg behind him. At the doorway they paused, unwilling to intrude. They could see Grissom, tossing and turning on the bed with Sara and Catherine hovering over him, trying to wake him up. Grissom's voice, breathless and fearful, barely reached them where they stood. "No!" he mumbled, fists clenched, as he tried to break free from Catherine and Sara. "Come on, Gris," Sara begged, "wake up!" "No," he mumbled again, "they aren't dead. They can't be dead." His breathing was coming in gasps, and his whole body was trembling. "Secured the scene... supposed to be safe... Son of a bitch!"
"Grissom," Catherine called, shaking him. "No! No..." He twisted his head away from them, as though trying to rid his mind of some image. "Sara!" he cried then, his voice filled with pain and devastation. Suddenly he seemed to be released from his torment for his body relaxed, and he uttered one last, pleading "no," before his face softened again, and he slept deeply. Sara, shocked to hear her name, pulled back from his now still body. "Did he just..."
"Yeah," Catherine confirmed, "he did." But she was less worried about what he had said, and more so about the fact that he was having nightmares at all. Apparently there was more to his problems than his hearing loss. Making sure Grissom was resting peacefully again, she grabbed the blankets and pillows she had spilled on the floor and piled them into Sara's arms. "Take these out there, and get set up."
"But..." Sara sputtered, but Catherine pushed her out of the room.
"Go on," she said firmly. Grabbing the last couple of blankets and pillows herself she left the room right after Sara, and Warrick closed the door softly behind her.
"That was..." Greg paused, looking for the right words. "I don't know what, exactly," he finished, noticing how surprised they all looked at the realization that Grissom was having nightmares.
"I don't know what, either," Catherine murmured, feeling tears pricking the backs of her eyes. "I think he was talking about us... I think we were dead."
Warrick nodded slowly. "It would make sense. I mean, who else would it be?"
Nick was staring into space, and they almost didn't hear his voice. "I didn't think we would ever mean that much to him. I mean, what reason does he have to be so... worried about us that he's having nightmares about us dying? Major nightmares. We're his friends, sure, but most of the time he doesn't realize that. He's such a robot, all the time."
Catherine sat up straight, her voice sharp. "Damn it, he's not a robot!" she snapped. "He has feelings, just like all of us. He gets scared, worried. He feels for the victims, all the time. As far as I'm concerned he feels more for the victims than any of us!"
"Catherine," Warrick said, soothingly, "Catherine, calm down. Nick didn't mean he is a robot; just that he acts like one all the time. He may very well feel a lot more emotion than any of us ever have, but it's hard to believe when all you see day after day is an emotionless mask. None of us have ever seen him actually display any emotion besides an occasional smile, or annoyed glance. You have to admit, sometimes it gets a little hard for us to believe that he has emotions beyond that."
Catherine sighed and relaxed. "All right, I know. I'm sorry. It's just... he takes so much on himself all the time. You don't even realize how much he feels, how much this job affects him." Sara, who hadn't spoken at all since they had left Grissom's room, met her eyes, understanding what she was trying to say even before she continued. "He hides his emotions so well... You're right, sometimes it seems like he is a robot, incapable of feeling. But he's like that because the amount he does feel, he thinks it would be inappropriate to show it. He thinks he needs to set an example for the rest of us. He doesn't realize what he's doing to himself – I don't think he wants to." She paused, and clenched her fist. "When I got here, he tried to hold himself together, pretend everything was all right, but he could barely stand. He only gets migraines like that when things are really bad. When I got him into his room he just... collapsed, on the bed. He was exhausted. I'd bet he hasn't slept properly in days." She met their eyes tiredly. "He's probably been having those nightmares for a while. You should have heard him. You should have seen the look in his eyes. He told me nothing was wrong, but it wasn't like he was telling me. It was like..." she struggled to find the right words, "it was like he was pleading with me, begging with me to tell him that it was true, that everything was all right." Sara glanced at her. "And is it?" "No," Catherine said bitterly, saying what they were all thinking. "Nothing is all right. It hasn't been for a long time."
For a moment they were all silent. Then Greg glanced up. "It's his hearing... the fact that his hearing's going is why he's having these nightmares." He paused. "At least, if he really is dreaming about us dying. There's no other explanation." The rest of the group looked at him in confusion, and he sighed impatiently. "If we die, he loses us, right?" he asked, and the team nodded. "The way he thinks, and acts, I wouldn't be surprised if he's told himself that when he loses his hearing, he loses everything. His job, which is his life..."
"And us," Nick finished for him. "And that scares him. Because, like Catherine said, no matter what it seems like on the outside, he feels, just like us, and if you think about it, we're basically a little family. A family with a father who really doesn't know how to open up to anyone."
"And since when are you two psychiatrists?" Warrick asked sarcastically. He was rewarded with a friendly shove from Greg, and a hard punch to his shoulder from Nick. Catherine pursed her lips, and then stood suddenly and began arranging the blankets and pillows. The rest of the team sat and watched her, waiting. Finally, she spoke. "I don't know why he is the way he is – maybe it's just who he is, but it's got to stop. It's got to stop now. I can't watch him do this anymore." Placing a pillow at the head of the last little bed she had created on the floor, Catherine straightened up. "He's killing himself, slowly but surely, as they say. I think losing his hearing this way really brought it to a head. I think if it hadn't, we'd probably still be wandering along in a comfortable fog, ignoring the fact that the way Grissom acts really isn't all that good for him. Or this team, really."
Greg rose from his seat then, and stretched before he lay down on the blanket next to the couch and curled up. "You know," he muttered, "I read somewhere that a person who never lets any emotions show for a long time will most likely release all that stress and frustration in one go, if something triggers it." He closed his eyes. "That would be some explosion, if Grissom were triggered, don't you think?"
The room was thick with tension for minute as they all thought that over, then Catherine sighed. "Go to sleep," she mumbled, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "It's already incredibly late."
"Yes, mother," Warrick said cheekily, as he turned off the overhead light and lay down next to Nick and Greg on the floor.
"Oh, shut up," Sara growled irritably from her chair, "will you just stop? There's only so much of that I can take."
"What are you talking about?" Catherine asked indignantly, and Nick's voice broke through the darkness.
"Do you really want to hear our answer to that question?" Sara, Nick and Greg all chuckled quietly at the remark. Warrick and Catherine could be heard grumbling to themselves as they slowly drifted off to sleep.