NUMB
The songs:
"Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd presents a dialogue between Doctor and Patient and it's a haunting song that was recently transformed into a mindless disco tune by Scissor Sisters. If Grissom heard what they did to that beautiful song, he'd lose all will to live.
"For the Love of Him" Performed by Bobbi Smith. It's an old, old, old song
"If Leaving me is easy" by Phil Collins
TODAY, EARLY MORNING
Grissom had a strong survival instinct. He quickly regained control of his emotions, no matter how hard a situation. So, a few hours after the little outburst in the kitchen, he had moved on.
He had some tea and then tried to read, but he really couldn't concentrate and the light from the lamp on his desk was bothering his eyes. He tossed the book aside and simply sat back on the couch, watching old AMC movies and waiting for dawn to come. He thought the coming of a new day might help him, but as the hours passed, he realized that he wasn't feeling well. He had a light fever, he was shivery- in short, he was feeling like shit. He wasn't going to take any medicine, though. He was pretty sure that it wasn't serious.
"You're experiencing psychosomatic reactions, Grissom" he muttered "shame on you".
Morosely, he stumbled to the kitchen and drank the last of the tea, then sheepishly picked up the plastic radio that he had tossed away the night before. He turned it on and was grateful that the poor thing was till functioning. He carefully placed the radio on the kitchen counter and He opened the fridge but there was nothing appealing in it.
When he opens the door says 'I'm home'
Beware of the look in his eyes
They'll tell you the mood he's in
What kind of day it's been…
Grissom glared at the radio. He hated that song. It was an inoffensive 60s song really, but to him it had always sounded like an ominous warning. It told him of battered wives dreading their husbands return, and of kids shushing their little brothers… 'if he's in a bad mood, beware..'
The song brought him some vague memories; whenever he heard it he pictured a little kid glancing at the clock, dreading the passing of the time and telling himself that everything was going to be ok this time.
He closed his eyes. He shouldn't be thinking of this. He should turn off the radio, that's what he should do.
There'll be times when he won't say a word
And you'll wonder if it's something you said…
That's true. Victims of domestic violence usually blamed themselves whenever 'daddy' lost control. As if domestic violence could be explained so easily.
His mother used to smile through her tears, and sign 'Don't you worry. Everything is all right' over and over, as if that was enough to calm him down. Oh, please. Even as a kid, Grissom trusted only the evidence: She had bruises on her face, she was crying. Things were not all right. Grissom shook his head. He had never understood why his parents had remained together all those years. His father loved music but his mother pretended not to understand music at all. She was deaf, so had to sign to communicate with her, but if she wasn't in the mood to listen to him, she simply looked away, cutting him off. When he tried to make her look at him, she simply closed her eyes. Then he'd get angry and wham!
Grissom had learned their little routines; he'd seen his parents' relationship as a sort of demented theater that he tried not to witness too often. As soon as he heard the first screams, he went to the garden or to the attic, to read.
When the song ended, Grissom blinked. It was amazing how a simple song could bring back these memories, he mused. He usually avoided thinking of the past but apparently he was a little vulnerable today.
Well, what he needed was some distraction.
If he was going to leave Las Vegas, he needed to start packing. He had sent his cockroaches to a friend in San Francisco, and he had donated his maggot farms to a local school, but what about his files and his albums?
He had a lot to do.
Grissom took a deep breath. There were about twenty boxes in this closet, each with its own label, 'Family photo albums,' 'Diplomas', 'Diaries'. He gazed at the boxes for a long time. He reached for the box with the Diaries, then for one labeled, 'Job Applications' and then for another, but he couldn't bring himself to open any of them. Maybe it was because of the fever, but he couldn't concentrate on this task.
'What if I simply take everything?' he wondered. He could afford it, couldn't he?
He certainly didn't want to decide what to keep and what to toss just now that he felt so depressed. Yes, at last he had admitted it. He was depressed. He sat on the floor and looked around.
'Maybe I should leave everything' he mused. 'And simply fly away,'
Leave Gil Grissom behind and become someone else; shed a skin, and start anew…
That sounded good, actually…
Yeah, right. He shook his head and read the labels of the boxes closest to the door.
'Seminars 1990-1995' 'Seminars 1996-1999' 'S.S.' His heart beat faster; for a moment he thought he'd like to open that, a box containing pictures from that seminar that Sara had attended when they met, and copies of some e-mails she had sent him afterwards.
Grissom snorted. Oh, for God's sake, how besotted can a guy get? The only thing missing in there was a lock of her hair. He touched the box, knowing that he didn't have to open it to remember what those pictures looked like, or what the e-mails said. He had read the messages over and over and had looked at those pictures countless of times. He and Sara were together on each one. Smiling, talking to each other or to someone else, but always side by side and in the middle of a group. They looked like wedding pictures.
Grissom remembered looking at the pictures and speculating about Sara's feelings for him, and wondering if he'd ever get the guts to tell her… to ask her out… He was musing about this, when Phil Collins started to sing:
I read all the letters, I read each word
that you've sent to me
and though it's past now, and the words start to fade
all the memories I have, still remain
I've kept all
the pictures, but I hide my feelings so no-one knows
It's 'cos you're gone now, but your heart, still remains
"Oh, for God's sake" Grissom muttered, looking at the radio.
But I
didn't believe it, not you,
No you would not let me go
Seems I was wrong, but I love, I love you the same
And that's the one thing that you can't take away but just remember...
If leaving me is easy, coming back is harder…
Grissom sighed and got up. Well, no, leaving wasn't easy, but he would never come back. He knew himself well enough to realize that. It was better this way. He'd leave all this in storage and in a few years he'd open each box and decide what to do. But not today.
TEN O'CLOCK
Grissom was back in the living room, listening The Wall and organizing his curriculum, when someone called. He recognized the caller's number and picked up immediately.
"Grissom"
"Finally!" his friend exclaimed cheerfully "Dr. Grissom, this is Dr. Cole, calling!"
"Hey, Gar, did you get my cockroaches?"
"Don't you ever check your messages, Gil? I've been sending you e-mails since I got your babies yesterday! They are fine, so don't worry, but why did you send them over? Are you giving me an early birthday present? Ha, ha!"
"No, I'm not!" he glared at the phone, "I only need you to take care of them for a month or two. You can, right?"
"Sure. What are you up to?"
"Nothing, really; I'm taking a leave of absence, and-"
"Whoa, a leave of absence? Last time you applied for one, you were already packing for Las Vegas!" he paused "Is that it? Are you changing posts?"
"Maybe." Grissom rubbed his face "I haven't decided yet."
"Oh. I thought you liked it there"
"I do. I just thought a change would be good"
"Change? You? Come on, Gil, I know you. Something happened; what is it?"
"Well…" he sighed, and decided that talking about it with a friend might help "I made a big mess here. Hit someone"
"Shit, man, why?"
Grissom calmly recounted the facts, trying to sound detached, but Cole was concerned.
"How badly did you hit this guy?"
Grissom looked at his right hand and noticed the faint scars on his knuckles. John Martin's teeth had caused some laceration, after all. Grissom remembered that night. He always would.
… John Martin's voice could be heard from the stairs; he was demanding that Doc Robbins release Melvin's body because he really didn't have time to spare. When Grissom appeared at the end of the hall, he enjoyed the fact that Martin paled and stepped back.
"Hey," Grissom called out, "Do you realize what you've done?"
"Look, Mr. Grissom, I only came for the kid. I wouldn't even be here if these damn bureaucrats knew their job-"
"Do you realize what you've done!" Grissom repeated and practically threw himself at Martin, smashing him against the wall. He didn't really feel any of Martin's punches; he was too busy relishing the look of surprise on the man's face, his screams for help, and the sound of bones crunching under his fist… He barely realized that poor Robbins was trying to pull him off until he heard him scream, "Gil, for God's sake, leave him, leave him! David, call Brass!"…
"I broke his nose." Grissom informed Cole "Some ribs, too, I think" Cole didn't comment, which felt like disapproval, so Grissom added humorously "Hey, I got a black eye and some lacerated knuckles!"
"And what did you do it for?"
"Well…I guess I wanted him to admit that he didn't do enough for his son-"
"Suicide cases are hard on parents, even if they don't show their emotions. You know that." Cole sighed "Gil, why don't you come down to San Francisco?"
"Well..." Grissom was surprised by the offer "I don't know-"
"Maggie would love to see you and the kids would take you to every game… I can take a few days off myself-"
"Gary, I'm fine-"
"Really? You hit a guy, and you say you're fine?"
"I only got a two-week suspension-"
"Gil, I'm not worried about your career. I'm worried about you. The truth is, you never handle these situations well"
Grissom was truly mystified "What do you mean?"
"Well, Gil, you rarely have emotional outbursts, but when you do… after the adrenaline rush drops, you get depressed"
Gil stared at the phone.
"What are you talking about?"
"Remember when you were in College? You spent some months seriously depressed until Phillip Gerard -"
"What?" Grissom interrupted "I wasn't depressed in College!"
"Yes, buddy, you were. Nobody noticed because you dealt with it by sleeping around, and getting high and drunk."
"Come on, everybody did that in College!" he protested
"Sure. But with you it was sudden. One day you were serious about your studies and the next two months you forgot all about them. It wasn't until Gerard intervened that I realized… that you weren't really partying; you were trying to numb yourself. Those were your own words, by the way"
Grissom was trying to remember what the hell he had babbled to this guy.
"Gerard convinced you to go back to your studies and to use all that energy into something positive. He made one mistake, though. He didn't really help you. He gave you the tools to survive but didn't try to understand. He should have made you get some counseling." he sighed, "I didn't help either, Gil. I was just glad that you were coming back to class-"
Grissom did remember that Gerard and Cole had once taken him out of a party and had helped him sober up.
"Gil, use your anger positively" Phillip Gerard had said, "Work for a better world"
Grissom had almost laughed at that. He didn't feel capable of heroic acts then; he had a hangover and was just coming to terms with the fact that he had wasted two months.
"Someone with your intelligence and knowledge..." Gerard had added "you're a natural investigator; you should use your energy-"
Grissom ended up taking Gerard's advice, and he had eventually become his best student.
He had depended on the older man, had trusted him, and considered him a friend, a mentor, and a father figure.
Well, that father figure had betrayed him. Phillip Gerard knew that Grissom loved Sara; he was perhaps the only person he'd ever trusted to that extend. "I met a girl...," he had said and Gerard had nodded encouragingly, using the same smile he used when he told him that Sara was dating Hank...
Grissom was pissed at Cole for reminding him of all this.
"Well, all right, so I drank too much. I'm not going to do that now. I know I made a mistake when I hit that guy; I made it personal. I just don't need someone trying to diagnose my behavior- "
"Come on, Gil, I'm just concerned, that's all; you're my friend-"
"Well, act like one." He said curtly "Just take care of my champions, just- Look, I don't feel too good right now and I'll have to hang up-"
"No, wait! Gil, come on, talk to me." He pleaded, "I'm your friend, and I won't let you down this time; you can trust me-"
Grissom closed his eyes suddenly, feeling as if someone had stabbed him in the forehead.
"Oh, crap" he moaned, cursing himself for missing the signs.
"What is it?" Cole was alarmed
"Migraine" he gasped, "It's bad-"
"Damn, man, do you have your medicine at hand?"
"No," he glared, "I'm the living room! Oh, damn" he moaned "Bye, Gar-"
"No, Gil; don't hang up! Go take your pills and come back, ok?"
"No way... no way..." he muttered and let the phone fall to the floor. He kept a hand pressed on the left side of his face, and with the other he felt his way to the bathroom. He blindly found the medicine cabinet and his migraine pills before he was violently sick on the sink.
'What is wrong with me?' he whispered as he painfully heaved. He had never let it go this far; he knew himself, he always had things under control…
This time he couldn't even manage to get a glass of water; it slipped from his fingers though, and crashed on the floor. He cursed his clumsiness and ended up drinking water directly from the tap.
Then he slipped to the floor, exhausted. He tried to avoid the broken glass, and waited for the pills to work their magic, using some breathing exercises to calm down.
He heard some faint music coming from the living room and he let it lull him.
(Doctor)
Hello!
Is there anybody in there
Just nod if you can hear me …
…I hear you're feeling down
I Can ease your pain
In his weakened state, Grissom vaguely realized that even though he had always loved this album, there was something that disturbed him about it. In the past, he'd always been somewhat depressed after listening to it. It brought him elusive memories… He wished he didn't have to listen to this song. It reminded him of Dr. Clark.
That day, at the ER, after they had pumped his stomach, the good doctor had come to talk and he had been very sympathetic.
"Nod if you can hear me" he had said and Grissom still remembered how he, still woozy from the pills, had shaken his head no.
Grissom had fallen for it. He still used that trick on sullen witnesses, who invariably shook their head no, too.
(Patient)
There
is no pain, you are receding
a distant ship, smoke on the horizon
You're only coming through in waves
Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying
Dr. Clark had been kind and gentle but Grissom just wanted to sleep. That's what he told him in the end; that he'd taken all those pills because he needed to sleep- hell, he hadn't slept in weeks! He wouldn't explain anything beyond that. He didn't want to hear, he just wanted to forget.
The doctor had recommended that he see a therapist, and the irony was that Grissom himself had had to sign his words so his mother participated in the conversation.
"He is only twelve" His mother insisted.
In the end, claiming that religion was the best therapy, she had taken Grissom to confession. Grissom groaned, remembering. What the hell could he say to Father Sebastián?
When I
was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got the feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am
I have become comfortably numb
After the 'incident', everybody acted differently towards him. Some adults pitied him and the few friends he had began to avoid him. His mother had been concerned, but what she needed in fact was some reassurance that he wouldn't do it again. So, Grissom stopped trying to talk about it and began to sign 'it's all right' over and over. He smiled ironically when he signed this but it did the trick; his mother finally left him alone. They moved to another part of the town and he entered a different school and Grissom had a chance to start over. He kept to himself. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to be known.
And in time he truly forgot about the 'incident'. He was… yeah, 'comfortably numb'. He was a good student who refused to shine in class. He was an average athlete, he didn't have close friends, and he kept his ideas to himself. Girls loved his looks but found it hard to get close to him: he was polite but refused to get drawn into love games. Still, he was dependable, he didn't get in trouble and he respected everybody. A gray life…
Until he was in College and the wall crumbled. An emotional outburst, Cole had called it. Grissom didn't remember what had happened and frankly, he didn't want to know. Right now, all he wanted was to sleep.
LATE AFTERNOON
Grissom opened the door and glared at Catherine.
"Well, well, the ghost of Christmas Present" he mumbled looking up and down at her.
"What?" she frowned.
"Nothing. I've been having flashbacks all day, like Scrooge."
"Grissom? Are you drunk?"
"No. I had a migraine and the pills-" he mumbled, going back to the living room. Catherine cautiously closed the door and followed. She watched as Grissom sat on the couch and closed his eyes.
"Are you going to wear that tonight?" he asked severely.
Catherine looked down at herself. She was wearing a nice little black dress and very high heels. She smiled.
"I have a date, Grissom" she explained "After that, I'll turn into a pumpkin and go to work. I only have two hours for dinner, conversation, and 'dessert', so I'm going to be direct. What the hell is going on?"
"Where?" he asked, opening his eyes
"I mean with you! Your pal Gary Cole paged me! He begged me to come and check up on you!"
"Yeah? You checked, you can go now"
"He said you might be depressed. Which isn't that hard to believe; you do look like hell."
"So will you, after 'dessert' ruins your make up." He mumbled, "I'm fine, Catherine-"
"I know you're fine." she said gently "You always say you are." She watched him for a moment "Ah, Grissom," she sighed "You should blow steam more often, you know; then you wouldn't just… explode."
"You are right. I'll learn, I promise"
Catherine noticed the dismissive tone. "I wonder if you're leaving because you don't want to start hitting everybody else…"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you let little problems grow out of proportion by not dealing with them. Sara's little crush grew into an all-consuming passion just because you didn't nip it on time. A few discontented mumblings from Nick and Sara, which you could have stopped by pulling rank, grew to a point where you could hardly work together anymore. You refused to ask Warrick if he was gambling again…"
"And I've also refused to ask you if you are visiting Sam Braun." He interrupted. He closed his eyes again "If you are, don't tell me. I don't care"
"Liar. You do. Maybe you care too much. Eckley wouldn't lose sleep over Warrick or me. He'd just fire us, which is very healthy for him, don't you think? You should do the next best thing, which is 'to deal with it'. Warrick isn't gambling, Grissom; I went to Sam Braun's house once, to ask him to stop trying to contact me-"
"I'm glad, Catherine" he said, curtly
She smiled sadly, wondering what else to say.
"Gil? Cole told me something about you being depressed while in College"
"I just used drugs and drank too much and slept around"
"Sounds like fun." She blurted out to hide her amazement "What happened?"
"I was forced to decide between studying and leaving campus, and I decided to stay."
"No, I mean what made you start in the first place?"
"I don't remember." He looked at her "Look, Cole thinks that I'll start drinking again, but I'm not. I'm a very sorry drunk, you know? I tend to spill my guts and I'd rather not do that ever again."
"Wouldn't hurt you if you did. As I've told you, if you let out steam-"
"I can't burden others with my problems." he interrupted
"Friends do that all time." She said softly, "And you have friends, did you know that?"
Grissom looked away, suddenly feeling bad for being an asshole when people only wanted to help. Catherine looked around and noticed the picture that Grissom had let fall on the floor. She picked it up and read the messages behind.
"You know, Grissom, this people" she waved the picture "They really want you back"
"I haven't said I won't be back" he argued.
"No, you have not" she said. "But are you?
"I'll try" he said, just to ease her mind a little.
After Catherine left, Grissom decided to stop feeling sorry for himself. He didn't feel so sick anymore, so he decided to do something with all the free time he had in his hands.
He went to the kitchen to make a call, when he noticed Sara's envelope on the kitchen counter. He had avoided even looking at it since last night, but now he took it because he needed some paper to write down a few phone numbers.
There were still some objects in it. He peered inside. There was a sheet of paper folded in two and a picture in a plastic holder.