A/N: This is the second half of Missing You. Thank you for all of the kind and constructive reviews and those kept after me to 'post it already.' I forgot to give credit to the person who named Grissom's tarantula "Fluffy" in a fic I read some time ago. Sorry it took so long to post this but I still write my stories long hand then type. It's like everything in the world conspired against me completing this story. Also, I rewrote this a thousand times. I still don't like it but I'm tired of dealing with it, really. Never been to Vegas, just glanced at a map. Any/all errors are my own. I don't own the CSIs - I just like to torment them.
Missing You
Part Two
Las Vegas Strip…
He couldn't believe that idiot shot him! In all fairness though, Grissom knew that Jack, the imbecile that shot him, was more shocked than he was. Now, he was going to die bound like a damned pig on a bed of lettuce. An apple stuffed in his mouth was all he needed to make his humiliation complete.
Maybe he should start at the beginning.
Sara and his first year wedding anniversary came three days ago, smack in the middle of a high profile triple murder. Naturally, they decided to wait until the weekend after the case was closed to celebrate.
Grissom had major plans. Dinner at a fancy new restaurant Catherine discovered. Dancing - maybe. His big surprise was custom made by a hot shot jeweler. As fate would have it, the gift was not ready on time - three days late but just in time for their delayed fete.
That night, Grissom set off an hour ahead of Sara without much of an offer of explanation. Of course, he knew she was curious but he also knew that she wouldn't ask. It was one of the many great qualities he loved about Sara -she didn't pry.
He couldn't wait to see her face. It would definitely set the mood for the remainder of the evening. Oh Yeah!
Grissom was mentally patting himself on the back for his ingenuity when he entered the fine upscale jewelry store to collect his goods. It took a minute to note that something was amiss. His first mistake. (And you can't blame it on his hearing - he got that fixed remember? But I digress.)
Grissom sauntered right into an in progress smash and grab. A scruffy blonde guy in black was smashing the glass encased displays as a second man with dark hair, same attire, stuffed the case contents into a - uh? Into a pillowcase? Yes, he was using a standard white cotton pillowcase.
What kind of operation was this? Grissom wondered. They weren't even wearing masks? Was someone not paying attention in thief school?
"Shit! I cut my hand!" The blond yelled.
Duh! DNA evidence. Amateurs.
Grissom backed up to leave them to their task when a hard object, most likely a gun, pressed into his side. Damn. He hadn't even heard anyone walk up. (I said he got his hearing fixed, the guy was just probably really quiet… Now focus.)
"You're not going anywhere."
"Look, how about I just let you finish up here and I'll be on my way?" Grissom reasoned calmly.
"Move it, Pops!" Thug number three ordered, pushing Grissom further into the store.
He didn't think it would go that smoothly but it was worth a shot. And who in the hell was he calling 'Pops?' At least he wasn't some brainless criminal.
"You might want to put the 'closed' sign in the window and lock the door." Grissom advised. No sense in letting the entire neighborhood in on the farce of a robbery.
"Jack, take him back with the other guy." The blonde ordered Grissom's captor with authority.
"Damn it, Marty! We're not supposed to use any names!"
Oh boy.
Grissom was pushed around the counter and into the back storage slash office area. On the way in, he glanced over to Marty and shook his head. Marty had forgotten to replace his gloves when he removed them to inspect his cuts. His prints would be everywhere.
That's not a bad idea though. Grissom pondered, then made sure he left good prints on the counter and door.
Once in back, Grissom found a man, he recognized as the store manager, taped to a chair in the corner. The man acknowledged Grissom's barely perceptible nod then turned his gaze away to watch the monitors lined across a desk nearby. The cameras caught the storefront from every angle and the entire event was probably being recorded. Glancing below the desk where some pretty impressive surveillance equipment was stored. Grissom spotted the "REC" flashing.
"Sit down!" Jack instructed and Grissom moved towards the nearest chair. He remembered barely reaching the chair before a flash of pain exploded at the base of his skull.
Grissom woke, according to the wall clock, less than ten minutes later. Good thing, it was less likely suffered a major concussion. Now, he was taped up as well to a chair and stripped of his jacket and car keys. He remembered leaving his gun in his lock box in the office his cellular phone in the car but surprisingly, his wallet was where he left it in his rear pocket. At least his body could be quickly identified.
He glanced at the clock again. He was now officially late for work. Sara was going to be worried, then pissed when she found him.
See, that's how it worked between them. He could get away with or push the limits with something as long as it didn't come back to bite him in the ass - like now. His second mistake. He played the 'trust' card and lost. Meaning, Sara would have no clue as to where to begin searching for him because he left the house silently daring her to ask where he was going. And his Sara, always up for the challenge, would rather sleep in a tub of rotting meat than ask him his whereabouts.
So, here they sat, with tape on both of their mouths. Conversation was out, so he joined the manager in watching the monitors. When the ridiculous show was over, Jack and Marty hustled in, ready to leave.
"What about them? Ain't enough room in the Honda for them." Jack informed Marty.
"And whose fault is that? The store was supposed to be empty."
"It was empty!"
"Then who are they?"
Grissom rolled his eyes skyward as the two continued to argue. He almost wept in relief when the third guy returned.
"That guy's got a truck." He motioned towards Grissom. "We can take it."
"We're taking both of them?" Jack questioned.
"No, get rid of the old guy." Marty waved in Grissom and the manager's general direction.
Call it vanity run amuck but Grissom was curious to know which of them Marty considered 'old' since they appeared to be around the same age.
Jack crossed the room and snatched the manager up and pulled out his gun.
"Wait! Not here. Take him in there, in that room."
"You mean the vault?"
Grissom could practically see a low wattage light bulb go off over Marty's head.
After some time, this included several jabs to the face and mid-section. Marty finally persuaded the manager to open the vault. He never understood why people were willing to risk harm to them to protect insured money and merchandise.
Grissom's mind began to wonder again when the two disappeared inside. It was hard to imagine he'd been holed up in the store for almost four hours. This had to be the longest robbery in history. Where in the hell were the cleaning people? Didn't they have night security like and any other reasonably over priced establishment? This would certainly be his last visit here.
While he was concerned with what the Three Stooges has in mind for him, he was worried about what Sara was going through.
By this time, he knew she had come clean about their marriage. Silence was no longer an option - actually, he was surprised it stayed a secret this long. It was better this way. Carvello probably suspended her pending review. With her solve rate, Grissom doubted that Sara would be fired. But Grissom was older and set in his ways. The Director would be happy to get rid of him.
Didn't matter, Grissom was tired of the charade. He was proud of Sara and if she loved him enough to marry him and put up with his shit, then he wanted her to be able to wear his ring in public. Sara and he decided recently, that they would go see Carvello in a few months anyway since they had decided to start a family.
Thinking back, the initial baby conversation hadn't gone well, though it started off innocently enough. At thirty-four, Sara was ready to have a baby and Grissom certainly agreed that if he waited any longer, his children would be pushing him to their graduation in a wheelchair. This much they agreed on.
Grissom was forever in awed that his mother managed to raise him alone and work full time. She did an excellent job and he respected her immensely, but times were hard and she was lonely. He didn't want that for his children. He wanted Sara to stay home and be a good mother, which he knew for a fact that she would an excellent mother. Call him old fashioned but he believed that woman should stay at home, take care of the house and spend quality time with the children. Uh huh. He said it just like that and Sara hit the roof.
They argued about juvenile delinquency and home schooling. It's not like his was blaming all juvenile delinquency on single parenthood but statistics showed that two parents were better than one, he explained to his feminist, pro-woman, and alpha female wife.
After an hour into that dispute, Grissom decided as her husband/ the man of the house, to take a stand. Sara was staying home with the children, at least for the first several years of their lives, maybe home school. Once they were older, she could go back to work part time.
Sara asked him if he had hit his head in the shower and walked away.
Though she hadn't said much as they continued to ready for work, he knew that Sara was still miffed about his earlier comments.
Seemed like every time he opened his mouth to try to get her to see his point of view, something else unintentionally foolish or chauvinistic would pop out.
There wasn't a shovel big enough or a backhoe fast enough to dig him out of the hole he'd fallen into.
They drove separate cars to work.
Sara must have said something to Catherine that night, because Catherine kept throwing daggers at him with her eyes during the assignments. Grissom did the only thing he could do, paired himself with Warrick. He guessed Sara must still had been seething while he was out because when he retuned a few hours later, all he did was wave and say 'hello' and she blew her stack like Mount St. Helen's! Right there in the hall. Like a wise man, he kept his mouth shut and listened. When it was over, Sara stormed off and he retreated to his office.
That's exactly where he stayed until Brass paged him to his office to offer him a drink.
Bad news traveled faster than the speed light.
Grissom hid there for an hour then returned to his office. There, Sara was waiting for him. Taking Jim up on his advice, Grissom apologized and groveled. Sara accepted and they went home and had great make up sex. Another bullet dodged!
And by the way, she's not quitting her job.
Speaking of bullets. An alarm sounded with a deafening shrill, snapping Grissom back to the present. Marty or the manager must have tripped the alarm from inside the vault. Thank God! Whatever the case, the heavy steel door swung shut, on its own, with a resounding metallic snip.
"Shit! Open the door back up!" The third guy yelled to Jack who was frantically pulling at the handle.
"I can't!"
At least that's what Grissom though the said. The noise was incredible, but at least the drama would be over soon. It should only take the cops a few minutes to respond to the alarm.
"We got to get out of here! Can you break the lock?"
Jack started hammering on the door with the butt of his gun to no avail and quickly gave up. Flipping the position of his gun, Grissom watched in horror as Jack began to shoot at the steel barrier.
Bullets began to ping as they ricocheted off of the vault door in different directions. Thanks to his improved hearing, Grissom heard a bullet whiz past his ear. Mortified, he jerked frantically in his chair, hoping desperately that the force of his weight would overturn the chair. Damned metal chairs!
Exhausted from the failed effort, Grissom paused to catch what little breath he could drag through his nose when a hard pinch in his side forced the air back out. He sat motionless while his brain processes what had just occurred.
It started as a sharp pain underneath his right ribcage but progressed into a searing pain that expanded with quickness, like a burning match to a water deprived forest.
"Oh shit! Oh Shit! You shot him!" The third guy yelled.
Jack stood frozen as Grissom slumped over in pain, blood from the injured area already beginning to soak and stain through his light shirt.
"We got to get out of here!"
"You shot him!"
"It was an accident. We got to get out of here before the cops come."
"What we going to do with him?"
Jack thought for a minute, then came up with a plan.. "He's coming with us."
"What? What we need him for? There's blood everywhere."
"Walk calmly to the parking lot and bring the truck around back." He ordered, tossing Grissom's keys as he spoke.
"What about Marty?"
"There's nothing we can do for him in there. Let's go. And grab that security tape on your way out Bobby!"
The pain was overwhelming. Grissom's head rolled to a side as Jack taped his ankles. He's only comforting thought before he lost consciousness was that he finally knew that the third guy's name was Bobby.
Las Vegas Police Department
Tactical Room…
"Shit!" Daylight shift CSI supervisor Conrad Ecklie swore as the muscles in his neck began to spasm painfully. His reward for twisting his neck in unforgivable angles while searching for more evidence from the stolen vehicle and from rubbernecking the standard institutional black and white clock hanging high on he wall for the last twenty four hours.
It seemed like longer than twenty four hours ago that he was tucked safely within the confines of his own home when he was ordered to the lab to search for his missing colleague. Ecklie would be the first to admit that he thought it was some sort of prank, misunderstanding or some sort of breakdown in communication. After all, this was Gil Grissom, king of the non-verbal, we were talking about. The arrogant, inarticulate, surly, ill-mannered and aloof Entomologist was probably drooling over some bug infested body and lost track of time. He heard rumors that the creepy crawler specialist actually spent his days off at the Body Farm. It was a stretch, but hey you've never met the infamous Dr. Gilbert Grissom.
Forty-five minutes after receiving his summons, Conrad walked into the Las Vegas Crime Lab and was immediately relieved of the miscommunication theory. Maybe it was the subdued tension in the air or perhaps the vacant stares of the graveyard shift or the solemn eyes of Sara Sidle. Speeding up his pace, he met his own team in the locker room to fill them in on what little information he had, then ushered them to the Tactical Room for a more formal briefing by Director Carvello and Sheriff Atwater.
Investigating a colleague was a shit job and he would have gladly done without the experience. There was no love loss between Grissom and him. Grissom sucked as a supervisor, he had the social grace of a potato and he violated the Code of Ethics by dating his CSI. So, there was nothing precisely written that forbade his relationship with CSI Sidle, but morally it was just plain wrong. It irked Ecklie that the Director chose to ignore the obvious for the last four years.
As a Forensic Entomologist, Grissom was definitely the best in his field; Ecklie would even go a step further and say that Grissom was a damn good investigator - to be old school. Solve rates don't lie. However, Grissom had ruffled many feathers and stepped on too many toes in his career; his ass should have been fired a long time ago or forced into retirement - well before the Strip Strangler case.
Getting back to CSI Sidle. After putting her career in jeopardy, at least he had decency to marry her, of this he was quickly informed upon his arrival. For the life of him, though, he couldn't see what Sara saw in Grissom. Granted, she was attractive enough and had a great body but she lacked the finesse of Catherine. Now, Catherine was 'hot.' But he would store that thought to savor at a more appropriate time. The Harvard grad could have her pick of more compatible suitors, easy. Sara was young, dedicated…energetic… a workaholic, intimidating, not very user friendly and too damn smart for her own good. Wait, she was a female version of Grissom. How boring is that?
Moving into the next several hours, interviewing Sara had been a real treat. She was evasive, distracted and had a smart ass mouth- everything an innocent woman shouldn't be. He couldn't blame her though, he had just raided her home and called her a murderer. Everyone already thought he was an asshole, he was just playing the expected role. Besides, he didn't want IAB, Internal Affairs Bureau, sticking their nose in his investigation. Bad enough the Feds were practically hanging from the ceiling with an egg timer, waiting to drop in at the twenty hour mark. He'd take the night shift any day over the Feds. But, he had a job to do. His own reputation was at stake here as well. Believe it or not, he was doing his best to protect Sara. If Grissom didn't make it back from this, Ecklie didn't want there to be a question of Sara's innocence. People would always wonder and in their line of work, credibility was everything.
Conrad also had the pleasure of sorting through Grissom's personal life. He had some set up for his retirement. Hell, Grissom could retire tomorrow and live comfortably for the remainder of his pitiful life. Nothing to do but play house and crank out baby geniuses. Lucky bastard.
Or not. Conrad glanced at the clock again. Damn.
Nothing to do but wait .
Once Grissom's truck had been found, Ecklie ordered a search of that site for any stolen vehicles within a thirty mile radius. Apparently, money wasn't the only thing people lost tons of in Vegas. So far, twenty-nine cars had been reported stolen and only four had been recovered.
The APB issued still resulted in zero. It was like the man vanished off of the face of the earth.
Outskirts of Las Vegas…
The truck's lurch on the gravel woke Grissom with a start. Finally able to focus, his eyes settled on he familiar tan interior of his Denali and the sound of heavy metal music.
Memories came back in a rush to his mind like an ill-timed slide presentation: waving goodbye to Sara; entering the jewelry store; three idiots and a store manager; vault door closed; alarms blaring; bullets flying and the unbelievable pain in his side.
Grissom's attempt to move was hampered by the tape that bound his wrist and ankles and by the ever present ache from his wound. The coppery taste of blood in his mouth brought on a wave of nausea and panic. He swallowed repeatedly, fighting against the tremendous urge to vomit. His body began to convulse involuntarily as he gagged on the blood filling his mouth. Grissom tried to stave off the spasms but his stomach continued to roll.
What a worthless way to die, he thought bitterly. He had hoped that he would be either poisoned by some exotic spider or die in his sleep. Never, in his wildest dreams did he think it would come down to this - hog tied in his SUV, probably drowned in his own stomach contents.
His coughing and gagging increased as did his moans. The jerking motions caused excruciating pain and more bleeding, which rose up to his mouth and the cycle continued until Bobby looked back and finally noticed Grissom's bulging eyes.
"Shit! I think he's dying."
"Damn. See if there's a towel or something. We need him alive."
Bobby opened the glove compartment and pulled out Grissom's registration and back up I.D.
"Holy Hell! He's a cop."
CSI Lab…
"This is crazy!" Warrick yelled, slamming his locker shut in frustration. "People don't just disappear…"
"…It's molecularly impossible." Nick finished Warrick's quote. They'd heard those words from Grissom's lips a hundred times. "And yet, there's not a shred of evidence to follow. Unless…"
Warrick cocked his head to one side. "Unless what, Nicky?"
"We've covered every possible angle but suicide."
"Suicide? Grissom? That's crazy man. That's out there!"
"It's hard for me to imagine too, but we've got nothing."
The two men studied one another for several minutes. Warrick was the first to speak.
"Okay, then let's rule it out."
"Rule what out?" Catherine questioned as she entered the locker room.
"Suicide."
Catherine stared at Nick like he'd grown another head. "Suicide?" She turned to Warrick, but he simply shrugged his shoulder. "We need to rule out everything."
Route 51 South…
What to do? He wondered, closing his eyes. Bobby had taken pity on him and leaned him up and over a bit. Definitely making it easier to breathe. He relaxed his head on the top of backseat cushion, which was very clean, he mused with pride, save from the newly added blood stains, to relieve the tension in his neck. With the tape on his mouth still in place, Grissom tried to regulate his breathing and assess the situation.
The male version of Thelma and Louise where driving like a bat out of hell to God only knew where. He had no idea of the time, but from the position of the moon, barely prominent on the darkness, it had to be close to dawn.
Grissom winced in pain as the truck hit another pothole. Damn Vegas streets! Hmm…the investigator in him kicked in. Torn up streets excluded the nicer neighborhoods and the entire Strip. They could be heading to the desert or on their way to any-damned-where in the continental United States. No. He decided as he got a whiff of he repugnant, stagnate water. The viaduct just outside Henderson? Or maybe any bloody where along the Colorado River. Something did look familiar later but Grissom could not figure from where.
Another hour, and several lefts and rights turns later the vehicle came to an abrupt halt.
"Gina!" Jack yelled as he and Bobby jumped out.
The door near Grissom's head opened and he was hauled from the vehicle. His feet barely touched the ground before he passed out.
Grissom looked up through fevered eyes. "Linda?" What in the hell was she doing here?
He pushed open his heavy lids again. No, it wasn't Linda. Must be Gina, what's his name's girlfriend.
Then another sharp pain hit him that nothing to do with his injury. He never told Sara about Linda. It's not like he was intentionally hiding anything. It was just that the situation was uncomfortable and truthfully, embarrassing.
Linda Kirkwood was a young, bright student he taught during a seminar at the University of Las Vegas. One of the smartest in the class, very much into the field of Entomology and hanging on his every word. She needed a mentor for her Ph.D. and of course was dying to work with the Dr. Grissom. Eventually, she started waiting after classes for him where they would continue their discussion.
She reminded him so much of an earlier time with another former student of his, the woman who not long before had become his wife. Sara was going to be pissed. By now, his computer would have been confiscated and it would not be hard to find Linda's saved correspondences. He knew what it would look like. He knew how hurt Sara would be when she read the mail.
He sighed again out loud. If he hadn't been so busy getting his ego stroked, he would have noticed how out of hand things had gotten.
Grissom started meeting with Linda after the first of the six week course, helping her project. It was exciting work and Grissom had been honored to assist. Not to mention that once the project was completed, Grissom would have a place of the Board of Directors.
Who would not be excited about the opportunity, once he retired from the lab, to travel and study the life cycles of insects all over the world. He would have government funding to take Sara anywhere she could imagine and continue his life's work.
Grissom was too busy getting worked up over the project to notice Linda getting worked up over him. Linda had wonderful ideas and was right on point with his line of thinking, like they had shared the same dream. It was invigorating and apparently- seductive. By the time Grissom picked up on that vibe, Linda was already crossing boundaries.
She was sitting too close, her touches lingered and her conversations, both verbal and via e-mail was full of double entendres. That was a wonderful game when he and Sara were the key players, but he felt like he woke up in the middle of Fatal Attraction. It was downright scary. Grissom started saving the e-mails just in case. Incase he had to have her committed or something. She refused to realize his rebuffs even though he reminded her that he was newly and happily married. The behavior continued until he threatened to shut down the project, withdraw his money and report her to the Dean.
H still wasn't sure why he didn't tell Sara. She trusted him and their relationship was solid, with or without a ring. This was made clear from the beginning.
Grissom was a lucky bastard and he knew it. That day at Catherine's place could have gone a lot differently. Sara had been furious he realized that she would no longer be appeased or placated with a token gift. He needed to conquer his inability to verbalize his emotions expeditiously or Sara was going to walk out of his life for good and that was not an option! He remembered the conversation well…
Catherine's living room…
"I can't do this anymore Grissom."
Grissom sighed heavily. "Sara, I don't know what to do-"
"Right, right. You don't know what to do about this. I've heard it all before. Well guess what? I do! I'm leaving! Leaving Vegas! Leaving you!"
"You're leaving?" Grissom's face reddened in disbelief. "Just like that?"
"Just like that? Just like that? Grissom, where have you been for the last eleven years? Either you really don't give a damn about me or this is the longest courtship in history!"
Grissom searched his brain for something meaningful. He knew it was now or never or Sara would leave for good and never return. "I - I care."
Sara rolled her eyes. "Is that the best you can do? Hell, I care too. I care about starving children, pregnant teens, stray dogs, the ozone layer-"
"What do you want from me?" Grissom demanded, the beginnings of hurt and anger evident in his voice. Opening up had been difficult and now she was making a mockery of his admission.
"Nothing you don't want , Grissom. It shouldn't be this hard. Why is this so difficult for you when it's so easy, so clear for me. You need to trust me, Grissom. You can trust me with you heart. I would never intentionally hurt you."
Sara's shoulders sagged in defeat when he did not respond.
"I give up, Grissom. Maybe I've got this wrong. Saw what I wanted to see." She surmised, reaching for her jacket.
Grissom panicked when she opened the door to exit Catherine's home. He did trust Sara. Sara was the only woman he would ever trust with his heart. So, he did the first thing that came to his mind - he proposed.
"Did you just say what I think you said?" Sara managed after prying her mouth from the floor.
"Yes."
Closing his eyes, Grissom rubbed his bare ring finger with his thumb. Silently, he promised himself that when he returned, he would never remove his wedding band again.
Locker room…
Nick glanced up as Warrick entered, then continued dressing. Catherine had threatened to send him home if he didn't get a shower. "Sara okay?"
"No, but she will be I guess. I mean, probably not."
"Warrick?" Nick questioned, slamming his locker closed and turning to see the tall dark man. Warrick's usually erect shoulder's were slumped, his usually bright eyes, glazed over.
"What happened? Was the agent still there inside-?"
"I've never seen Sara cry before. I've never seen anyone cry like that before." He continued, oblivious to Nick's stunned look.
The image of Sara moving about her domain like a wooden soldier disturbed Warrick when she finally permitted him to escort her home. Watching Sara break down while feeding Grissom's roaches hurt him to his core. Sara's loud, harsh sobs echoed through out the large, empty townhouse, emphasizing what was lost.
He tried to settle her but she was inconsolable and now he understood. He understood that he, Catherine, Nick, Brass and Greg had no clue as to the depth of Sara and Grissom's feelings for one another.
"I got to go."
"Where you going, Rick?"
"Out. Away from here. I need some air."
Nick studied Warrick. He knew that look. It had been a long while but he'd seen that look of desperation before.
"Stay. Maybe we could get something to eat?"
"Naw. I'm good."
"No, you're not. Don't go Warrick." Nick knew that if Warrick walked out of that door, his first stop would be the nearest casino.
"I don't need a damn babysitter!" Warrick spat with fire in his eyes.
"Hey." Nick took a step forward, his hands held up in surrender. "Let's talk."
The compassion and sincere concern in Nick's eyes was too much for Warrick.
"I've gone through most of my teenage and adult life not caring about people and certainly not caring what people thought about me. For a while, other than my Grandmother, Grissom was the only person that gave a damn. I - I never knew what he saw, but he kinda just took me under his wing, you know? And suddenly, I'm caring what he thinks, trying not to disappoint." Warrick sat down heavily onto the bench. "If Grissom's gone…I..he..he's the closest to a father I've ever known. I love him, Nicky. I never told him." His last words muffled as his head dropped into his hands.
"He knows man. Grissom knows that we love him." Nick slid onto the bench, wiping away his own tears while his friend tried to hide his.
"I got to go." Warrick pushed back suddenly.
"War, wait." Halting Warrick's movement with a firm grip on his arm. "I just was thinking…I just wanted you to know…You and I are..what I'm trying to say-"
"Jesus, Nicky. What?"
"You are my co-worker, my best friend and you are my brother. In every sense of the word Warrick. You are my brother and I love you. As long as I have breath, you are never alone. I would do anything for you - you only have to ask."
Warrick stared stunned, then turned his head away as fresh tears leaked from his lids.
Nick patted Warrick on his back then moved to stand, only to be stopped by Warrick's hand. Warrick pulled him into a hug, then whispered. "Thanks man. I love you too."
It was Nick's turn for tears.
"Alright, alright." Warrick pushed Nick away playfully. "I haven't cried this much since my cousin forced me to take her to a Celine Dion concert."
"I know someone who would love to go to a Celine Dion concert with you." Nick hinted.
"Nick, Celine Dion couldn't pay me to see her in concert again."
"Even if it's with Catherine?"
"Let's not go there, man."
"Why not? I know there's something going on between you two. Everybody knows there's something going on between you two. It's like "Sara and Grissom: The Early Years."
Warrick raised an eyebrow, then shrugged his shoulder. "No way. Not Catherine."
"Why not Catherine? Ask her out, Warrick. You guys don't have half the issues as Sara and Grissom and things still worked out for them. Do you like her?"
"Like her? I dig the hell out of Catherine. Yeah, I like her and that's the problem. She scares me. She'll have me crazy stupid over her then drop me like a bad habit."
"You don't know that. Ask her to breakfast."
"We eat breakfast together all the time."
Nick sucked his teeth. "Alone, Warrick."
"Dude. Don't do that thing with your teeth again. You sound like a girl."
Nick punched Warrick in the arm.
"Okay. Okay. I'll ask after this. When this is over, I'll ask her."
CSI Lab…
Catherine walked to the break room and found Warrick and Nick looking as forlorn as she felt. She was tired, sleepy and desperately wanted to hold her little girl in her arms. But that was an impossibility. She was in charge until Grissom was officially - no until Grissom was found and could officially return to duty.
In the past, Catherine made no bones about wanting the supervisory position, but not like this. Not at the cost of her dearest friend's life. She figured that Grissom would retire. Spend time with Sara and hopefully have some little ones to watch grow. Maybe he would write a book or run a bug farm or something of that gross nature.
She would give anything right now to see his disapproving glare when she pried into his personal life or his smirk when he tried not to laugh. He was a true friend. When it came right down to it, Grissom was the only man, so far, she trusted. One hundred percent.
Catherine closed her eyes to taper down the flood of emotions. Not now. She had to be strong. Strong for Sara, Warrick, Nick and Greg. I can do this.
"Hey guys. Any luck on the suicide angle."
"None." Warrick grunted.
"Ran it past Ecklie. He said it wasn't likely but to go for it anyway. Said it couldn't hurt. If I didn't know better, I'd think that Ecklie actually cared about Grissom."
"Nick, Ecklie is a good CSI. He's done a stand up job so far." Catherine countered.
"Yeah. He's even working well with the Feds." Warrick added.
"How's it going with the Feds anyway?" Nick wondered out loud. "I expected a lot of men in black taking over."
Catherine slipped into a chair. "They're tracking all of the stolen vehicles. They haven't pulled rank and Brass knows the Special Agent In Charge. Apparently, they go way back."
"Good." Nick nodded towards the file in Catherine's hand. "What's that?"
"Smash and Grab at a jewelry store on the Strip."
"What? You want us to work some robbery while Grissom is still out there missing? I think not!"
"Warrick, this is hard on all of us but we still have a job to do. There's not much we can do to help right now except wait, and be there for Sara and each other."
Warrick took in Catherine's worn appearance and immediately felt guilty. She was a far cry from her usual 'well put together' self. She looked like she hadn't slept in days when in reality it had only been one. She also probably hadn't laid eyes on Lindsey since Grissom's disappearance.
"Sorry, Cath. Come on Nicky."
Several hours later, Warrick and Nick returned to the lab. They spotted Catherine easy, set up camp at Grissom's desk, opposite of his executive chair.
"How'd it go?"
"Interesting, actually." Warrick smiled warmly, still feeling guilty for his earlier outburst.
"Yeah. Turns out our typical smash and grab was anything but." Nick added.
"Okay" Catherine prompted.
"Daytime clerk called it in. Said that when she arrived, the in-store alarm was going off. It's not tapped into the security system that connects to PD. Owner claimed it was too expensive. Anyway, the place was a mess. Blood and prints all over the showroom - probably amateurs. The best part was as we went back into the office, there's a second crime scene there. Obvious signs of a struggle, tape, more blood."
"Really?"
"Yep." Warrick picked back up. "Looks like someone was sitting in a chair and was shot through and through. Found the bullet behind in the wall."
"Whoa. That was atypical."
"That's not the best part. Rick and I are collecting and suddenly the vault door swings open - apparently on a timer or something. Out comes one of the perps. We think there was a least two or three. Dude must have gotten trapped inside with the manager."
"The store manager?"
"Uh-hmm. Couldn't get anything from him though."
"Was he beaten?"
"Maybe knocked around some but the medics think he had a stroke."
"Damn."
"Yeah."
"So, had to be cameras going in a joint like that."
"Plenty of surveillance tape to watch with Archie after we get these samples to Greg, Jacqui and to ballistics." Warrick pointed to their arm load of goods.
"Good job, guys."
There was a hesitation at the conversation's end. The unasked question hanging.
"No. No word yet." Catherine said softly.
Their mood plummeted once again.
Southern Nevada…
"Welcome back, Mr. Grissom. You had me worried there for a minute."
Grissom's eyes silently tracked the dark haired woman as she needlessly organized and dusted the already spotless room. His wallet lay on the nightstand. She must have gotten his name from his I.D.
"Who are you?" His voice hoarse from non use.
"My name is Gina. Remember?" She chided, then pushed several ice chips into his mouth with latex covered fingers.
"Thanks. Where am I?"
"At my house." His eyes rolled in frustration at her evasiveness. "Look, I don't know anything about why you're here. The guys brought you in bleeding and delirious from a gunshot wound. The bullet pierced your lower abdominal wall, and from what I could tell, missing everything important, then exited about an inch and a half from your spinal cord. Lucky you. You've been sutured, inside and out. Had to repair a bleeder but I think I got everything, all that I could see. Also administered a hefty dose of antibiotics to help with infection and something for the pain."
Her detached tone suggested professional, well that and the minor surgery she had just performed on him. "Are you a doctor?"
"No, but I have just watched the entire first season of ER on DVD."
Grissom was not amused.
"Okaaay. I'm a trauma nurse over at Morning Star General. I may not be a doctor but I've seen enough of it to get the jest. Besides, I've practiced on cadavers. The worse that could have happened was that you would have died sooner."
Grissom nodded in acceptance of her information. "Thanks, I think. I feel like hell. How long have I been here?"
"You've been here a bit. Not surprising, your feeling like hell, given the amount of blood loss- anyone else would be dead right now. So-."
"Where's Jack and Bobby?" Gina shrugged her shoulder in response. "I need to use the telephone."
"Oh no. Jack said to make sure you stay put."
"Please. I need to make a call. I need-" His struggle to sit up was short lived as pain exploded in his side, leaving him breathless.
"Easy there. You're going to ruin all of my handiwork."
"Will you call Las Vegas PD?"
"Lay back down, Mr. Grissom."
"Then will you at least call my wife?"
"Damn. The good ones are always married!"
Grissom frowned. "Help me out? If you help me, I'll make sure the police know that you saved my life."
"No way. I've got nothing to do with this. I'm not the one who robbed a jewelry store then shot a cop."
"I'm not a cop. I'm a criminologist."
"Whatever."
Grissom and Gina both turned when the front door slammed.
"Lay down. I won't tell them that you woke up."
Audio Visual Lab…
On his fourth cup of coffee, Warrick slide in another surveillance tape from the jewelry store when a familiar face appeared in the background.
"Shit!" He yelped as the hot liquid slipped from his frozen fingers. Ignoring the mess, Warrick grabbed for the remote control to rewind. Then, he watched in shocked silence as Grissom's image came to life on the screen. He continued to watch the silent feature until Grissom was forced into the back room, out of the camera's view. Quickly, he snatched up his cell phone and paged Nick.
DNA Lab…
"Greg, man. I need that DNA run from the blood samples."
"Almost done, just need to run them through C.O.D.I.S." He narrated patiently as he fed the computer the information. "You know, this could take a while."
"I'll wait. Besides-" The ting of the computer alerted them to a hit. "Damn, that was fast."
Greg grabbed the paper from the printer, then read the results with a frown. "This can't be right. My samples must be contaminated. I need to run this again."
"What is it, Greg?"
"I- I need to run this again."
"Damn it, Greg." Nick's pager went of, interrupting his scolding. Glancing at the message, he snatched the results from Greg's hand and scanned them quickly. "Something's up with Warrick. I've got to go." He was near the door when the written words sank in. He spun around. "Is this right? These are from the jewelry store?"
Greg nodded weakly.
"Thanks!" Nick tossed over his shoulder as he bolted down the hall in a dead run.
AV Lab…
"Rick! You are not going to believe this!" Nick started as he rounded the corner.
"Nick, man. Check out this tape."
Grissom's figure was frozen on the screen.
"Damn." Nick leaned closer for a better view. "Well, this confirms what Greg gave me." He said handing the report to Warrick , then continued to study the surveillance tape.
Each finished their respective tasks then spoke at once.
"We need to call Brass."
"We need to call Ecklie."
"Go!" Warrick prompted.
"We need to call Ecklie and get back to the jewelry store."
"Yes." Warrick agreed. "We also need to call Brass after we get a hit off of the other prints from Jacqui for a warrant. Ecklie can talk to our suspect. Let's finish these tapes and see what kind of condition Grissom was in when they took him."
"You know that means that it was probably Grissom that was shot in that chair."
"Yeah. I know."
"That was a lot of blood."
"Yeah. I know. Ties in with the truck. We won't call Sara until we have something more."
Some time later after the two reported their findings to Ecklie, they met up again along with Agent Walters.
"Prints came back to a John Handel and Robert Epson." Warrick handed Ecklie photos.
"They've got rap sheets, nothing major though." Nick added. "We're working on next of kin and known associates with Brass."
"Good job." Ecklie commended. "I've been talking to this guy, Martin, in holding. He's giving up nothing. Asking for a lawyer. He knows we have him on video. Also, the manager still hasn't come around yet but they think that he'll recover."
"My men can help with the list of contacts. Save some time." Walters offered. "We'll get word out to the classier pawn shops, ones that could move the kind of jewelry stolen."
Once again, the other three men were surprised how cooperative the Federal Agent had been thus far.
"'Preciate that." Ecklie paused and the men waited for any further instructions. "I just want to thank you all for your efforts. Um, all right. Let's get to it."
Warrick and Nick eyed one another curiously at Ecklie's moment of emotion, then scurried to their work.
Gina's place…
"Mr. Grissom?"
Grissom opened his eyes slowly then scanned the room.
"They've gone. Jack says to take care of business."
"Good." He mumbled with a groan. He felt worse. He was freezing but his body felt like it was on fire inside. The pain that was once dull as steadily reaching excruciating.
"Your temperature spiked about a half hour ago. I gave you another dose of antibiotics and Tylenol but I'm out of my league here. You need to go to the hospital. There's infection there and you need an IV."
"Just let me use the telephone."
"Mr. Grissom. Jack will kill me if I do. You should rest. I'll make you some soup." Fear evident in her voice as she quickly exited the room.
Certain that she was gone, Grissom slowly moved to a sit. Fighting for consciousness and to maintain the position, he held onto the bed sheets for dear life. He ignored the pain, dizziness and nausea as he lifted then swung his feet over the side of the bed.
Sara. I need Sara. He chanted again and again trying to clear his head and garner enough strength to stand. One foot down, Grissom gingerly tested his weight on the injured side. Satisfied, he took two steps then collapsed onto the floor.
Tears of frustration and agony burned his eyes as Gina's face swam above him. "Please. Please help me. I need Sara. I need Sara. Sara. Sara." He called until blood once again filled his mouth.
Grissom suspected that the taste of blood, pain and the wet stickiness on his skin meant that he had reinsured himself. He was dying. This he acknowledged and he was afraid. He was afraid because he would never see Sara again. Grissom so desperately needed to see Sara's face, hear her voice, look into her intense brown eyes, feel her satin skin next to his and see her body grow with his child.
"Mr. Grissom!" Gina cried, spilling the warm liquid in her hands. Her heart broke as she watched the grown man curled into a fetal position on the floor sobbing for his wife. She knew she had to help him.
Grissom Home…
The ringing telephone roused Sara from her slumber. In her sleep, she dreamed of a picnic on the beach with Grissom and their curly brown haired, blue-eyed daughter playing in the sand. Reaching out, her hand captured only air, a cruel reminder of the nightmare that was now her life. Her chest heaved in despair as once again the reality of Grissom absence and probable death weighed in.
What now? She wondered as she covered her head in an attempt to block out the incessant ringing. She was not interested in the caller - it wouldn't be Grissom. She did not want any visitors, to see their solemn faces full of uncomfortable sympathy. She didn't want to hear their stilted and awkward words of understanding.
Sara only wanted to her Grissom's voice. His voice in hesitancy, impatience and love. His voice when he called her name. The same word that with different intonations could illicit an mixture of emotions ranging from annoyance, anger, passion and affection. Sara did nothing to stoke the flood of tears as the physical ache of her loss became overwhelming. She had nothing. No husband. No babies. Nothing but an empty shell that used to hold her heart. And nothing but a telephone that refused to stop ringing.
"Hello?" She sniffed.
"Sara."
CSI Lab…
"We got lucky!" Brass jogged into the break room calling everyone's attention immediately.
"What happened?" Catherine stood hopeful.
"Two guys fitting the description of John Handel and Robert Epson just tried to fence some jewelry from the heist. Pawn shop owner is stalling them. Let's go."
Brass motioned to Warrick and Nick who were already grabbing their jackets and cell phones.
"Cath, we'll call you." Warrick promised on the way out.
"You better."
As they rounded the corner of the break room, Sara burst through the doors, the F.B.I Agent assigned to her home close at her heels.
"Where's Ecklie?" She demanded from her first contact, a daylight Lab Tech.
"Sara? What are you dong here?" Warrick asked as he and Nick headed to the rear exit for their truck. Brass had gone in the other direction.
"I've heard from Grissom."
"You've heard from Grissom?" SAC Walters repeated as he, Sheriff Atwater, Ecklie and Director walked up to join the CSIs.
"Yes, he called home about…"
"Twenty three minutes ago, Ma am." Her shadow agent supplied.
"Thank you. I need to know where that call came from." Sara demanded.
Gone was Mrs. Grissom, CSI Sidle Level III was on a mission.
Agent Walters nodded in the younger agent's direction, sending him off to collect the information.
"What did Grissom say? Is he all right?" Nick asked.
Sara breathed deeply and recalled the brief conversation from memory.
"Sara?"
"Grissom?" She bolted upright in her bed.
"Sara…Sara, Honey. I love you."
"I love you too baby. I've been so worried about you. What happened? Where are you?"
She strained to hear Grissom as he coughed, sputtered and gasping for breath.
"Grissom? Where are you? Tell me where you are."
Grissom could barely comprehend her words, but hearing her voice calmed him. He could now leave this earth with Sara's soothing rich alto voice lighting the way.
"Grissom? Gil! Where are you? Answer me!"
Where was he? He was floating in a river. Sara's laughter filled the air as they paddled downstream. He murmured several words with a smile, remembering.
"Where? I didn't hear you, Gil. Say it again. Tell me-."
The line disconnected.
"I think he said 'Tippecanoe.' Sara interpreted, snapping to the present. "We spent a weekend at a resort in Laughlin some time ago named Tippecanoe. Maybe he saw it on the way. I'm going down there."
"Wait. Hold on. Sara, we're about to bring the suspects now. We've got a positive match on the prints and DNA. They'll know where Grissom is for certain. Maybe you should wait here and the Feds can go down there."
"Brown's right" Atwater concurred. "You are not on active duty just now but we don't have the man power to waste on a wild goose chase."
"I'd hardly agree that a lead from Grissom himself qualifies as a wild goose chase. Ecklie countered.
"I heard the tapes. His words are inconclusive, Sir." The Agent spoke up after returning from the Tactical Room.
"We'll wait to hear what the suspects say. Sara, you should stay close in case.'
Catherine could see Sara's blood pressure rising and steered her out of the area. Nick and Warrick followed.
"Sara, don't ever repeat it but I think that Atwater is right on this one. It's more likely that they have stayed in the area, kept Grissom near."
Sara bit her lip, they way she did when she was perplexed. "I don't know. He sounded bad. He really wanted me to come to him."
"Sara, after we serve the warrant, I'll drive down to Laughlin myself. Check out the local PD, hospitals and what not." Warrick reasoned. "You guys can call me if they give up anything."
Sara stepped into Warrick's open arms. "If you find him…"
"You'll be the first to know. Don't worry, Sara. I'm all over it."
The arrest had gone without incident. The pawn shop owner had still been negotiating a price for the goods when the police arrived. The PD was now bustling with activity as word got around that Grissom's kidnappers where apprehended.
Warrick had called Catherine ahead as promised. They, unfortunately, had not been able to get any information on Grissom from the suspects, so Warrick set out for the most Southern Nevada to follow up on Sara's haunch.
Catherine and Sara waited in the Observation Room in silence while Brass, Nick and Walters escorted the men down the hall then separate rooms. The walls lined with uniforms, lab personnel and other curious onlookers. The spectators watched the men closely as if Grissom's whereabouts would leap room their clothing.
Twenty minutes and the interrogation was not going anywhere. Atwater and Carvello had joined the women to watch through the two-way mirror.
"Your buddy over there in the other room is singing his heart out." Brass baited, hovering over John "Jack" Handel. "Says this was your idea, that he was blackmailed into this by you and Martin." He adlibbed, Martin had given them nothing to work with.
Jack's eyebrows shot up at the mention of Marty's name.
"Yeah, Martin is the one that told us where you were."
Jack visibly shrank into his chair at the news of his lifelong friend's betrayal.
"Look Jack, can I call you Jack?" He continued on kindly when Jack shrugged. "I don't think you had anything to do with this, really. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong crowd, right?"
"Yeah, he's not trying to pull Gina into this is he?"
"His girlfriend? He mentioned her." Brass had no clue who Gina was but went with it.
"That bastard! Gina's my girlfriend - not Bobby's or Marty's. And she's a good girl too - a nurse."
"She's taking care of Grissom?"
"The cop? Yeah, she fixed him up good. His being shot was an accident, though. Only…"
"What?"
"Only, he wasn't doing so well when we left."
"Give me the address and telephone number." Brass said, tossing a notepad that appeared from his breast pocket onto the table.
When Jack finished, he handed the tablet to Brass who in turn handed the tablet to Nick.
"Can you call Gina?" Nick questioned, handing Jack his telephone.
Jack accepted the telephone then dialed a ten digit number from memory. Every pair of eyes in the vicinity realized that it was a long distance call.
"Gina? That bastard Marty ratted us out! Huh? Uh-how? I know. That shit Bobby's telling the police that we thought up the whole thing. I know, I know. Calm down. Don't you worry, though. I told the cops that you didn't have anything to do with this. Hold on." Brass waved a hand to get Jack's attention. Jack placed his hand over the receiver to see what Brass wanted. "What's up?"
"What in the hell do you think is up, asshole? What about Grissom?" Brass was quickly loosing his patience.
"Grissom?"
"The cop you kidnapped." Nick snapped.
"Oh. Uh, Gina? How's the cop?"
Behind the mirror, Catherine placed a hand on Sara's arm. "Easy there." She knew it was taking everything Sara had not to enter that room. Everyone else held collective breaths as they waited for his response.
"Oh? Damn. Okay. I'll call you later." Jack handed Nick back the telephone before continuing. "Oh-uhm. He died. But Gina did everything she could for him. He wasn't supposed to be there."
Catherine grabbed onto Sara as her knees buckled.
"Oh no." She was too late. Grissom begged her to come and get him. She promised to get him and she didn't make it. "I want to see him."
The occupants of the small space studied Sara closely as if judging her sanity.
"Did you hear me?" She turned to face the Director and Sheriff squarely. "I want to see Grissom. Take me to my husband."
She needed proof. She needed to see Grissom's life less body for herself before she would accept anyone's word. The evidence never lied.
There was a moment of tense silence then Director Carvello turned to agent Walters. "Have someone run a tracer on that call and confirm the information Mr. Handel submitted. Then," He paused to ensure complete understanding of his instructions. "Provide CSI Sidle with an escort to meet Dr. Grissom." Making it clear this would go down as a business trip.
Agent Walters nodded once again to his agent.
"That's over ninety miles."
"Yes, yes it is. A helicopter should get us there in about thirty minutes." Sara supplied easily before leaving the room.
Laughlin, Nevada…
Gina hung up the telephone, severing the connection with Jack. The finality of the conversation hung heavy.
"You told him I died?" Grissom questioned between labored breaths.
"It was the only way to keep you safe. You don't deserve this. You should be at home with you wife." She concluded holding up Grissom's wedding band he kept in his wallet, then slipped it onto his finger.
"Thank you."
"Yeah, well." Gina said smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her white uniform. "It's over anyway. The cops have Jack and his idiot friends. I should have never let him drag me down this way. Probably ruined my career. Could be worse though, right?"
"Thank you." Grissom said again, brushing aside her attempt to minimize her actions.
"Okay, you're welcome. Now, let's get you to the hospital."
"Okay." Grissom said before losing consciousness.
"Rick? Where are you?" Nick eased out of the interrogation room into the hall to use the telephone.
"In Laughlin. I just got here and it took about ten seconds to find out where Grissom was."
"Jack said that his girlfriend was taking care of Grissom. So, we had him call her and I'm sorry, Warrick, she said that Grissom died."
"What? Look, PD said that this Gina took him to the hospital then turned her self in. I'm on my way there now. Nicky, get Sara down here."
"A.S.A.P."
"I'll call you when I get to Morning Star General Hospital and let you know what Gris' condition is."
"Okay. Call me when you know."
Morning Star General Hospital…
Sara stepped off of the elevator and quickly spotted Warrick leaning casually against he Nurse's Station desk. His mega-at smile answered her immediate question.
"Sara. Grissom's going to be okay."
"Thank God. Where is he now? Can I see him?"
"He's in recovery. Doctor came out a while ago, said they performed a laparoscopy and did some minor repairs. There's some infection though that had his temp up but nothing a couple days of IV antibiotics can't handle. He was concerned about Grissom's blood pressure and that was probably due to blood loss but he's been transfused and seems to be better. I haven't seen him. The nurse's says he's asking for you, so I'll let the Doc know that you're here."
Sara listened patiently as Warrick checked off her mental list of questions. She thought of one. "Warrick?"
"They've got him on some good meds. He's feeling nothing."
Sara smiled and pulled Warrick into a hug. "Thank you. For everything."
"You are welcome. Now go. Your husbands waiting for you."
Warrick took a shuddering breathe, his brave façade faltering as Sara disappeared through Grissom's door. It was finally over. It was hard to believe that they almost lost one of the most important persons in their lives to a random act of violence. Violence that they dealt with on a daily basis, but that still didn't prepare you for it personally. Never in his life had he felt as helpless and afraid as he had during Grissom's absence.
He glanced at his watch and slid into a hard plastic chair. The Nick and Brass would be there soon. Catherine needed to stay in Vegas and keep things running. Catherine. He would make a point to express his feelings more. Life was too short and it was time for healing and new beginnings. Warrick smiled again at the thought of new beginnings, fished out his cell phone and pressed a number from speed dial.
"Hey Cath. Yeah, she's here. Grissom going to be just fine."
The End