Chapter 3: Unexplained Terror

That evening they ate breakfast sitting around Grissom's kitchen table. It was made awkward by Grissom's lack of dishes, but they managed to get around it. When they were finished, Grissom still hadn't woken, and Catherine explained he usually slept late after a migraine.
She sighed as she glanced at her watch. "I wish one of us could wait around until he wakes up, but we all really need to be there tonight, with Grissom out of it."
"Look, Cath, we can each come and check up on him at different times, make sure he's all right," Warrick assured her. "He'll be fine."
"I guess," she admitted. "It's not like he ever needs my attention afterwards anyway, he just pretends he's perfectly fine." They all helped put away the blankets and pillows used the night before. Each of them glanced at Grissom as they passed. His body was relaxed, and he was sleeping peacefully, oblivious to their presence, and their concern for him.

They were just at the top of the stairs to his apartment when Sara sighed. "Damn it, I forgot my cell phone on the table. You guys keep going, I'll..." She was cut off as a crash resounded from Grissom's apartment, startling them all.
"Grissom!" Sara cried, the first to regain her senses. She ran down the hall, unlocking his door with the spare key they had found in his apartment. "Grissom," she called out again, and the others echoed her words. They could hear him suddenly, choking and gagging.
"Oh my god," Sara whispered as she stepped into his room, the team behind her. Grissom's bed was empty – the blankets and sheets were twisted, and had fallen to the floor. They were soaked in sweat. Beside the bed lay the lamp that used to sit on the bedside table. It was shattered, and there was blood on some of the pieces. The sound of it breaking had been what they had heard. Apparently he had staggered into the bathroom to throw up. "Grissom," Sara spoke softly, as she moved slowly into the lighted bathroom. She definitely didn't want to startle him. The others, behind her, seemed to realize what she was thinking for they were quiet, and followed her slowly. She couldn't keep the surprise off of her face as she saw him, slumped against the bathroom wall. His knees were pulled up, his arms and heading resting on them. From where they were standing they could see he was soaked in sweat. His right hand was a bloody mess, and his whole body was trembling violently. They could hear his breath coming in great gasps and sobs as his chest heaved.
"Grissom?" Sara asked quietly, stepping forward. He didn't seem to hear. "Grissom," she repeated, a little louder, as she put a hand on his arm. His head jerked up, and for the first time in their lives they saw in his eyes the agony he felt, and the terror of what he had seen in his sleep. Reflected in their ice blue depths was all the pain he had ever felt in his life and never showed, an incredible terror, and the terrible exhaustion of carrying that burden. It was almost more than they could handle, and they all felt as though someone had jammed a knife in their guts. Grissom was supposed to be strong; he wasn't supposed to show this kind of emotion. It was only then that they realized how much they really did expect him to be emotionless. How much they depended on him to be calm and cool, and totally in control when cases took over their lives. The knife twisted cruelly as guilt washed over the group.
Seeing them, Grissom pushed himself up, but his legs wouldn't hold him and he slid back down the wall. He tried to speak then, but instead he began to sob, his whole body shuddering as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn't hold himself together anymore. Sara strode forward quickly, shaking off the feeling of guilt, and slid down the wall next to him. "It's all right, Gris," she whispered, pulling him into her arms, hugging his shaking body tightly. "Everything's going to be all right."

Catherine, realizing that Grissom was in good hands, slowly backed out of the bathroom, pulling Warrick, Nick and Greg with her. Sara glanced up as Catherine turned to leave, and their eyes met. They understood each other.

"Go," Catherine said, pushing the guys out into the living room. "I'll meet you at work. Make sure you tell the desk Grissom and Sara are taking a sick day."

"But, Cath," Nick protested, but she shook her head. "Go! I just need to clean up a few things here, and then I'll be there." She met their eyes. "Honestly," she assured them. "Come on," they complained but they left, finally. Catherine let out her breath, and strode back into the bedroom. Quickly and efficiently, she stripped the bed and threw everything into the laundry basket, and then made it up again. Carefully, she picked up all the shattered fragments of the lamp and threw them out. That done, her attention turned to Grissom and Sara. They were still sitting on the floor in the bathroom. Grissom's head rested on Sara's shoulder, his eyes closed, his face pale. Sara had managed to pull a clean washcloth off of the rack above them, and had pressed it to his hand to stop the bleeding. The sweat had dried on his body, and he shivered, though not violently enough to wake him from his exhausted sleep. Catherine crouched down beside them, smiling slightly as she watched Sara run her fingers lightly through Grissom's hair as she whispered quietly to him. "It's all right, Gris, everything's going to be all right."

"Here," Catherine said softly, wrapping the blanket she had brought around Grissom's shivering body, making sure it covered Sara as well. Sara was startled; she hadn't realized that Catherine was in the small room. She blushed, realizing that Catherine must have been watching her with Grissom. "I just..."

Catherine cut her off, smiling. "It's all right, Sara. He needs you right now. Maybe he always did." Sara sighed. "Not that you could tell." She let her head fall forward, so her lips rested against Grissom's hair. "No," Catherine agreed, grinning even wider at the sight, "Not that you could tell." Standing up, she opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and pulled out some bandages and antiseptic. Taking the cloth from Sara, she got it wet and gently washed Grissom's hand. She was just putting on the antiseptic when he seemed to jerk awake, pulling his hand from her grasp. "What..." he muttered, eyes looking dazed. Sara tightened her hold on him. "It's all right, Gris, it's all right," she whispered. The words were all the assurance he needed, and he drifted off again.

Catherine regained her gentle yet firm grip on his hand and finished cleaning and bandaging it. The cut wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but it worried Catherine just the same. Sara had managed to stop the bleeding quickly and that reassured her just a bit. When she had finished, she put the things away and crouched back down next to Sara and Grissom. Sara's cheek rested against Grissom's hair, and Catherine couldn't help but smile. Then she became mock serious. "You're my friend, Sara," she said softly, "but he was my best friend first, so you better watch yourself. If you hurt him, I'll make your life a living hell." Sara looked up, shocked at the words. Then she saw the amusement in Catherine's eyes. She smiled, aware that while it was a joke, there was probably a bit of truth in it as well. "I promise, I'll take good care of him." Catherine glanced at her watch, and then at Grissom. She double-checked the bandage, and then stood. "Well, I have to go," she murmured. "There's food in the fridge, and you can call me if you need anything. I'll see you two later."

"Hey, Cath?" Sara asked hesitantly as Catherine turned to leave. When the older woman stopped, waiting, Sara gave her a small smile. "Thanks." Catherine smiled in return. "Anytime."

Sara didn't know how long she sat there, Grissom's head on her shoulder, his sleeping body in her arms. As long as she was with Grissom, though, she was happy. It was crazy that she still felt this way about him, even after all the times he had pushed her away. But, there was just something about him. She couldn't help it, and she knew no matter how many times he rejected her, she would still be there for him. Because she thought Catherine was probably right, and he needed her more than he knew.

Suddenly, she felt him stiffen against her. His face was twisted in fear, and he muttered something that she couldn't quite make out as he struggled against her hold. "It's all right, Grissom," she whispered, holding him tightly, "I'm right here, everything's all right." Gently, she touched his face. "I'm right here, Gris." He seemed to find her touch reassuring. His body relaxed again, and his face became free of fear. Sara looked down at him sadly as she tucked the blanket more firmly under his chin. She hated the fact that everything wasn't all right, despite what she kept telling Grissom, who so desperately needed to believe her. In the space of a day and a night, it seemed, Grissom had completely fallen apart. She had never seen him so vulnerable, and it scared her a little bit. Never before had she considered the possibility that Grissom could feel that kind of pain. None of them had, really, despite the evidence that had been there on so many occasions. With a sigh, she lay her cheek against his hair again, and gently gripped his hand. "I'm sorry, Gris," she whispered as a tear trickled down her cheek into his hair, "I'm so sorry."

It seemed to be hours later when Grissom finally stirred, his eyes flickering. Sara sensed that he was waking up almost immediately, and she gently touched his face as he lifted his head from her shoulder. "Hey," she whispered, noting that he definitely looked better than he had earlier. "Hey," he muttered in reply, and she winced. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded as though he'd been strangled. Grissom didn't seem to notice though, and he let his head fall back to her shoulder. It told Sara that he was still hurting – he never would have done that otherwise.

For a moment they stayed that way in silence. He was painfully aware of Sara's arms around him, and while it made him feel nervous it also made him feel secure at the same time. Sara broke the silence, and she regretted it the minute she did. "Do you want to tell me about it?" Almost immediately, his body stiffened, and he pulled away from her. The blanket slipped off his shoulder, and her arm fell to her side. "No," he said abruptly. He stood then, and Sara stood with him, angry with herself for ruining the moment. "Listen, Gris," she began, but he cut her off. "I said no, Sara," he said, and she could hear the unease in his voice. "All right," she replied, "all right." She sighed, and he looked away from her. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he grimaced. He looked terrible. Suddenly, he saw Sara reflected in the mirror, standing behind him. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out. "Sorry, Sara," he said, cutting her off, the lie again coming easily to him. "I didn't catch that. Listen, I need to get changed and take a shower. Can you..." he trailed off, studying her in the mirror, hoping she would understand. Hoping she would keep her answer simple. "Sure." Her lips formed the words reluctantly, and then she turned and left the bathroom. When he had spoken, Grissom's voice had been too loud, as though he hadn't been able to judge for himself – just as he had been too quiet the other night in the office. She knew his hearing had faded out again, but she didn't want to press him on it. Yet.
She was just looking through the fridge, trying to find something to eat, when she felt her pager vibrating on her hip. Checking it, she saw that it was Catherine. Grabbing her cell from where it still sat on the table, she speed-dialed and smiled when Catherine answered immediately.
"What's up?" she asked as she continued to search for something quick and easy for Grissom to eat.
"Not much," Catherine replied, "just a couple of bodies, and a B&E. Nick was thrilled about that one." She paused, and Sara knew immediately what she wanted.
"Grissom's fine," she reassured the older woman. "At least, I hope so. He woke up a few minutes ago, and he seemed fine until I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. Then he just clammed up. But then, I guess we probably already knew he'd do that."
"Yeah," Catherine murmured absently. "Where are you now?"
"I'm in the kitchen, trying to find something that's quick to make so Grissom can have something to eat. He's having a shower and changing his clothes at the moment. His hearing faded out again. He didn't even say anything about it."
Catherine sighed. "I know he's probably going to be difficult, but just... try to get him to talk. Find out what the hell happened last night, though I expect it had something to do with his nightmares. He needs to talk, and frankly I think you're the best one for the job."
"All right," Sara replied, seeing Grissom come out of his room in a clean pair of black pants, and a plain black shirt. "Listen, I have to go, I'll talk to you later, all right?"
"Sure. I take it Grissom just showed up?"
"Yep."
"Well, see you. I'll come over when I get off shift. The guys will probably tag along, so I intend to sit us all down and get this over with once and for all. Even if it kills Grissom."
Sara would have smiled if she hadn't felt so nervous about this whole Grissom thing. "Ok, I'll see you then. Bye." She pushed end, and turned to look at Grissom, who was staring into space. "Gris?" she prompted gently.
He jumped. "Huh?" He looked slightly confused.
"It's all right, Gris. I just wanted to make sure you're all right."
"I'm fine." His answer was short and to the point, and Sara let it go at that.
She leaned down again to take another look in the fridge. "Anything in particular you want to eat?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said vaguely, his mind obviously elsewhere. "Anything, I guess."
Sara repressed a sigh of irritation. "How does toast sound?" she asked, trying hard to make it seem like everything was perfectly normal.
"Uh, fine, I guess."
"All right, I'll make it. Why don't you go into the living room and watch some TV or something while I fix it?"
"Sure," he replied meekly. It worried her, that he was so out of it. She knew it couldn't be because he was tired – he had slept for hours. Shaking off the feeling, she set about making his breakfast. Well, lunch, really, she thought to herself.
In the living room, she heard Grissom turn on the TV and start surfing the channels. At least he would be occupied with something other than thoughts of the night before.

After eating, Grissom turned his attention completely to the TV, and Sara realized he was trying to discourage her from asking questions.
"Grissom..." she began, but when he didn't even turn to look at her, she let it go. She was suddenly afraid – afraid of pushing him to hard, afraid of being the one to cause him pain. God knew he had caused her enough pain; still, no matter how often she had been angry with Grissom, or hurt because of him, she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She knew Catherine had told her to try to talk with him, but all she wanted at the moment was to make sure Grissom was happy. So she let it go and they sat silently, side by side, watching the screen in front of them.
Sara was just glancing at the clock a few hours later, wondering where the rest of the team was, when her cell phone rang. "Sidle," she answered.
Catherine's voice came over the line. "Listen, Sara," she said, sounding apologetic, "I'm really sorry but do you think you and Grissom could come in? We just got a new case. It's really big – multiple homicides, pretty brutal. Brass told me this one's definitely going to take the whole team, even if it's just to collect all the damn evidence. Do you think he's up to it?"
"Um..." Sara glanced at Grissom. "You up to going to a scene?" she asked him, and he nodded, eyes still fixed on the TV screen. "Sure, Cath," Sara relayed Grissom's answer, "we'll be right there." She frowned suddenly, realizing something. "Wait, shouldn't it be days shift's case though?"
She heard Catherine sigh before replying. "Yeah, technically, but Mobley kind of wants Grissom on it. He said I could say no, but the look in his eye was really kind of creepy. I didn't want to go there."
Sara grinned at the thought. "All right, we'll meet you at the lab first. I need to grab my kit." Catherine agreed, and they both hung up.
Grissom, noting she was done, stood, and went to get his coat. "What's the case? Why are we taking it?" he asked, the first words he had spoken for hours.
"Mobley apparently asked Catherine if we wanted it – he said he could give it to day shift if she wanted – but the she says the look in his eyes told her it really wasn't open for discussion. Multiple homicides, pretty brutal. And I quote Brass, 'this one's definitely going to take the whole team, even if it's just to collect all the damn evidence.'" She stopped suddenly as the colour drained from Grissom's face.
"What?" he asked. The words seemed to repeat themselves over and over in his head. "They can't be dead..." he murmured, the pain and fear in his eyes unmistakable. Sara was shocked to realize those were the exact words he had said during his nightmare. They can't be dead.
 "Grissom?" she asked, worried at the frantic look on his face.
"Call Catherine," he snapped, hands trembling, "tell her not to go! Tell her to tell Mobley to give it to the day shift."
"Grissom, what?"
"Just do it, damn it!" He was pleading with her now.
She shook her head. "Not until you tell me why. What's going on?"
"Damn it, Sara!" His whole body was shaking, and she thought for a moment he would collapse, but he stayed on his feet as he staggered towards her.
"Gris, what are you... Grissom, damn it, stop it!"
He had snatched the cell phone from her hand and was dialing Catherine's number, squinting as he tried to make out the numbers through the pain in his head. When Sara tried to grab the phone from him, he grabbed her wrists in his free hand and held her away from him. "Don't," he gasped, eyes haunted.