WHO ARE YOU? Part Two

Thank you for your reviews and messages!

Jo: This is a shameless plug- you might like to read "Under the Influence", another of my GS stories.

So sorry about the delay; I spent a month trying to make Grissom talk…and I still don't think he would have said anything.

I'm afraid I piled on too many horrors on him, but hey, it's fiction after all!

She shivered and Grissom didn't know if it was because of what he'd said, or because her ratty robe didn't protect her much.

He knew that she was confused. She clearly hadn't expected that answer from him, and now she was searching for the right words to say.

"Grissom," she said, taking his hand, "Listen. There is anger in all of us-"

"I know." He said gently. He caressed her fingers, "You hand is cold." he noticed, "You should put on some clothes."

"What I need is a shower, but I'm not moving until we talk." She said firmly.

"Take your shower, Sara." he said patiently, "I'll wait"

She didn't move.

"I'll wait here." He repeated, "I promise."

"Gil-"

"Sara, I'll wait here. I'm done with running away, ok?" he said, searching for something in his pockets. "Here, take my keys. Take your shower and then we'll talk."

Sara stood under the hot water, moaning a little. Her back hurt, her legs hurt –not that she was complaining. She didn't mind the faint bruises on her body either; they were all physical reminders of her night with him and she'd never regret that.

She allowed herself a little smile as she reached for the body wash, glad that she'd bought this expensive stuff. She wanted to smell good for Grissom.

Her smile faded. What he'd said about rage really confused her. She was willing to deal with whatever tormented Grissom, but she wondered if he'd ever trust her completely.

There had been something about Grissom's eyes too… hopelessness –

Maybe she shouldn't have left him alone.

Not that she didn't trust him; oh, no. She knew he'd be there, just as he'd said he would.

But she couldn't help wondering…

"Damn." She whispered. She hurriedly finished rinsing off and grabbed a couple of towels and wrapped herself in them; she grabbed Grissom's keys from the place she had hidden them in, and hurried out-

From the end of the hallway she could see the entire kitchen and living room/dining area. He wasn't there.

"No." she moaned, "No, no, no, no, no-" she hurried back to her bedroom, whispering 'no, no, no' like a prayer…but feeling no real surprise at not finding him there. "Damn you, Grissom!" She growled, and she opened drawers and grabbed clothes and put them on carelessly. She returned to the living room and reached for her car keys… but they weren't there. Grissom had simply taken her own keys with him.

She felt a little relief when she noticed that his bag and cell phone were still there; he'd never leave his belongings just like that. And there might even be a clue in his phone, too; maybe someone called and asked for his help-

She noticed that someone was calling him right now. Sara hesitated only a few seconds before answering with a curt 'hello'.

"Is Virgil there?" A woman's voice, soft- an old lady's voice.

Sara identified herself as Grissom's girlfriend and the woman uttered a sigh of relief.

"Oh, I've been trying to reach him for hours! I'm Virgil's aunt from Chicago-" she explained, "He said he would come but he didn't-"

"He missed his flight, yes." Said Sara, "He's not here right now, but-"

"Is he all right?" she asked and then, to Sara's surprise, started to cry. "He hadn't called in years. We were so happy. We thought we could finally make it up to him-"

Sara hesitated between respect for Grissom's privacy and her own need to know more about him.

"Ma'am, can you help me?" she asked.

Grissom carefully climbed the stairs to Sara's apartment. He was juggling two paper bags filled with Styrofoam containers of breakfast goodies. He'd ordered eggs, waffles, fresh fruit, muffins, and coffee. He had ordered bacon, but had already eaten it; he didn't want to hurt Sara's sensibilities and he liked it hot and crispy. He was finishing the last of the slices just as he fished for the keys in his pocket to open the door.

"Hey, Sara?" He called out, closing the door with his shoulder. He lifted the bags when she saw her, "You were right about that place, they cook anything. They take their time to do it, though." He glanced at her and noticed the relief, plain on her face. He frowned. "What?"

"You're back" she said breathlessly.

"Yeah." He put the bags on the kitchen counter and turned to her. He realized she had been crying. There were still wet tracks on her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She said, "I just thought-"

"You thought I'd left." He interrupted, "Didn't you see my note?"

"What note?"

"I left you a post-it on the bathroom mirror." he explained, going to her. "I would have told you, but you wouldn't have let me go-"

"Damn right." Sara said, pulling him into her arms and holding him tightly, "I would've grabbed you into the shower."

"Hey, you smell good." He said appreciatively. "Are you hungry?" He reached for her hand and noticed that she was clutching something. "What's that?"

"Nothing." She said –and mentally kicked herself for lying.

Grissom looked down and froze when he realized that she was clutching his phone.

"Who did you talk to?" he asked, still looking down.

"Your aunt called."

Anybody else would have thought that the news didn't bother him, but Sara knew him too well. His apparent lack of reaction was due to an enormous amount of self-control.

When he reached for his phone she resisted, and he had to gently pry it from her fingers.

"You had a lengthy conversation." He noticed, "What did you talk about?" he asked but before she could answer, he added, "No, wait. Don't tell me. I know what she said."

Sara hesitated. Emmy had told her the little she knew of Grissom's childhood. It wasn't much, but Sara didn't think Grissom would have ever volunteered this information.

"She's worried about you." She explained tentatively, "They were waiting for you at the airport and you didn't show up."

Grissom barely nodded.

"She said that your name is Virgil." She said, smiling a little; but Grissom's reaction surprised her: He reddened.

"I hate that name," he muttered, turning away.

He went back to the counter and started opening paper bags. The scents of the food, so enticing a while ago, made him nauseous now. Still, he took out the different containers and placed them on the counter, slowly because his hands were shaking.

He hated to feel like this; vulnerable and exposed – he felt as though he were naked, with his secrets written all over his body.

Sara approached him from behind and drew her arms around him.

"Hey," She said softly, "You can trust me- "

"Sara," he interrupted, "I know I owe you an explanation; but there are things I can't talk about."

"Grissom, please look at me." She asked, and he reluctantly turned within the circle of her arms, "If you don't want to talk, I'll understand. Just remember that you don't have to keep everything inside. Talking helps sometimes."

He was going to argue, but then he realized something important: Emmy didn't know everything.

Some secrets were his alone.

"All right, Sara." He muttered, "Let's talk."

Grissom was putting his CDs in the correct boxes, while Sara finished her waffles. He had promised to talk but only if she ate something first; she had glared and made some protests, but he'd been firm about it.

Sara glanced at the CDs.

"The Wall." She read "Ah, Pink Floyd; your favorite group. Want me to play it?"

"It's old stuff," Grissom said, barely glancing at it, "You won't like it-"

"But you do. I saw how carefully you put it in its box."

"You don't have to play it just because I like it." He argued but she was already taking the box with her.

"Wait here." She said.

He jumped when the song started. He only hoped he wouldn't be as sensitive about music as he had been the day before.

You better make your face up in your favorite disguise
With your button down lips and your roller blind eyes
With your empty smile and your hungry heart
Feel the bile rising from your guilty past

Grissom watched as she moved around the living room, closing windows and curtains, and turning on a couple of lamps. She was creating an atmosphere of intimacy for him.

Grissom was still thinking of what to say, when she came to sit beside him on the couch.

"I was going to tell you about rage." He said tentatively and she nodded. He cleared his throat and tried to say something else and failed, then tried again. "I really don't like to talk about myself-" He began, "But you already know that." He added sheepishly.

Sara smiled faintly. He clearly didn't know where to begin, and she wasn't going to pressure him. Yet.

"I told you it wasn't Mrs. Martin I was angry at." He said next.

Sara nodded. After Emmy told her a few things about Grissom, she was sure she knew who the 'gutless bitch' was.

"It's your mom." She said softly.

"Yeah." He admitted, shaking his head with exasperation. "I'm a fifty year-old man who's angry at his parents."

"We all have unresolved issues, Grissom."

"Sara, I'm not a little kid; I shouldn't feel like this. And it's unfair-" He added, "My mother… she did the best she could, I just-" he paused, trying to find the right words. "Sometimes children expect too much from their parents-"

"What did you expect from them?"

"Things… that they'd never be able to give, or do." He said, thoughtfully, "A quiet home, for instance." He shrugged, "You see, they fought all the time, and my father hit my mom; I hated that. I expected them to change because of me, but of course they couldn't. I didn't understand that they weren't just parents, they were people with lives of their own." He shook his head, "People who were truly wrong for each other."

"Emmy told me that your father left, eventually." She said, "It must have been hard for you."

"Yeah." he nodded. He couldn't imagine his parents living together now, but at the time he'd been devastated. Once, just after a big fight, there was a moment when Grissom's father had just stood there, looking at his wife. He said, 'you know what, Vera? if I stay I'll end up killing you'.

"What happened after your father left?" asked Sara.

"He came back a few times, but it was pretty much over between them. My mom had a couple of boyfriends… But she wasn't very lucky. She always attracted the wrong kind of man, Sara. Almost every guy she dated ended up abusing her."

"Damn." she muttered, "You saw them-"

"It was verbal abuse, most of the time." He explained, "But some of them slapped her." He admitted.

"Why did she let them, Gil?" Sara was indignant

"She didn't 'ask for it' if that's what you think." he sighed tiredly

"But it happened more than once," she argued, "There was a pattern-"

"Yes, but…look. We've dealt with abused people; you know how it is. They don't 'ask' to be abused and they don't consciously look for someone to hurt them. They are simply vulnerable people with low self esteem who desperately want to please someone… And the abusers put on a good act, too. They seem caring and nurturing until something snaps in their heads. Then the victims think there's something about themselves –their voices or their faces, whatever – that makes a perfectly normal person turn against them. They believe it's their own fault, not the abusers'."

"Did they hit you too?" she asked concernedly. .

"They ignored me, most of the time." He said evasively; he did NOT want to talk about that. "But I used to watch them; I thought there might be something on their faces that I could identify, so I could warn my mom. I never found anything, and they thought I was weird, for keeping a silent watch on them." He smiled mischievously. "It unnerved them."

"But what did your mom say about them?"

"She was a hopeless romantic, Sara." He replied, "She kept saying that 'this one' would be different." He paused a moment, remembering her vulnerability, her need to look pretty for her date... "It took me years to understand her, but I do now." He said, "Her childhood wasn't easy. My grandfather hated the fact that she was deaf and said so. He ridiculed her speech so much that she eventually refused to talk altogether. That lack of approval colored her life, Sara. She kept trying to please impatient, violent guys." He narrowed his eyes, "My father was like that sometimes, like a bomb ticking; he had this look in his eyes that told you not be around because in five minutes things would get ugly. I got out of the way, but my mom didn't. She always had this look on her face, just a split second before he hit her… as if she couldn't believe he'd do it." He said slowly, clearly remembering, "And then there would be slaps… and whimpers. And her awful screams, 'aaiiinnnooo'" he emitted a ghastly moan that gave her shivers. "And the next day she would have this awful, green-purple bruise on her face-"

"Did he hit you?" she asked, softly.

"-and yet, he was a nice guy most of the time. Funny, well-read-" he said, ignoring her question, "He was a musician who earned more money working in an office," he said, "He was successful, but I could tell he'd rather play the piano all day long. He'd sacrificed his career and it must have embittered him so much that he just-" he paused and shook his head, tiredly; "I'm justifying his behavior, aren't I?"

"You're trying to understand his actions, Grissom." She said, "It's hard to accept unreasonable behavior from someone we love."

"Unreasonable. That's the word." He nodded, "And it applies to both of them. They pushed each other's buttons. He communicated to her by signing, but if they were fighting, she turned her back on him, which made him mad. Or she would vacuum just as he started playing the piano. When they acted like that it was safer to go somewhere else and read. Thank God I learned to read early." He said humorously.

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
out of the corner of my eye
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown
The dream is gone
and I've become comfortably numb

"Your aunt's home was different, I guess." said Sara.

"Oh, yeah. It was completely different. That summer I got a glimpse of what happiness could be like."

"Your parents were getting a divorce -" she said, repeating what Emmy had told her. Grissom nodded, clearly uncomfortable. "How old were you?"

"About seven," He said, and soon he was lost in thought.

He'd missed his father so much that his mother sent him to her brother's house. It was a smart decision: Grissom loved it there and learned a lot too: Football from his cousins, fishing and plumbing from his uncle, and Spanish from his aunt. He smiled, reminiscing. His aunt Emmy would greet him each morning with a big hug and a kiss…'mi angelito' she called him. Her own two kids rolled their eyes when she called them by sweet names, but Grissom, so hungry for affection, just melted. "My aunt was…warm," he said softly, "The kind of mom you see only on TV. And my uncle was nice too; he taught me a lot about plumbing. In fact, I've never had to hire a plumber." He said smugly, and then he added, "What he really loved was fishing, though. Fishing and riding roller coasters." He finished. It was clear that those few weeks with that family had shaped an important part of who he was.

While Grissom reminisced, Sara recalled what Emmy had told her about Grissom's next visit, the following year: "He wanted to stay with us, but we said no: His mother needed him. She had a new boyfriend too, a good man; we thought Virgil should give him a chance. He needed a dad." She broke into tears, "He was sitting alone in that Greyhound bus, crying. When we visited him a few years later, something awful had happened. He had changed so much-" The woman had been so distraught, that Sara had asked her to calm down, promising to call as soon as she found Grissom.

"I've just realized something." Grissom said suddenly, "Yesterday I was ready to go to Chicago for a new job and a new life, but all I did was try to go back to one place where I felt safe-"

"Your uncle's home." She finished. Then she carefully added, "Emmy told me that you wanted to live with them-"

"Yeah, I think I begged them." He said, a little embarrassed, "I was a needy kid, Sara," he said self-deprecatingly, "but I guess Emmy told you that already."

"She didn't call you needy." Sara protested, "She said you were sensitive and smart. All you wanted was to feel secure and loved, and every child deserves that." She patted his hand, "Did your mom marry again?"

Grissom shook his head.

"She never did. She became a teacher" he said. "A very good one, by the way. She's retired now."

"Do you talk to her?" she flushed a little, "I mean, I know she's deaf, but-"

"We e-mail each other now and then, but no-" he said with a hint of humor, "-we don't 'talk'. We're very similar: We work, we read, we avoid relationships, and we keep our emotions under control."

She didn't comment, but he sensed her disapproval.

"It worked for me." He said, defiantly. "I liked my life, Sara. It wasn't much of a life by people's standards, but it was just what I wanted; I had a job I loved, I learned, I solved crimes, and I didn't hurt anybody; not until Melvin-"

"You hurt yourself." Sara said meaningfully.

He opened his mouth to argue this, but in the end he nodded reluctantly.

"After what happened yesterday I can't argue with that." He said ruefully, "I just wish I hadn't involved you."

"After what happened last night," she said with a little smile, "I'm not sorry I got involved. We're together and you're telling me things about yourself. I love that. It means that you trust me."

"But I feel like a wimp," he said ruefully.

"Well, you're not." She said, taking his hand reassuringly.

Grissom was distracted by the feel of her hand on his; he loved the way she had laced her fingers through his. Their palms were against each other… and suddenly, he remembered how their bodies had been close together like this…how her long legs had surrounded him, tightly, while his arms…

Grissom gulped. All he wanted right now was to kiss her and stop this talk that wasn't going to change anything. He tightened his fingers around hers and looked up. Their gazes met… He knew what Sara was feeling at that moment. He leant a little towards her…

…But Sara looked down.

"Grissom," she said, pulling her hand away, "We need to talk."

"Sara-"

"There's still something bothering you-" she interrupted firmly, "We need to deal with it."

Grissom sighed.

"Sara, I just don't know what else to say." He said, resignedly.

"Well…" she hesitated, "You talked about rage, but I think you're just being hard on yourself. I've rarely seen you lose your temper, not even when the rest of us do-"

"I learned to control it over the years. I used religion and philosophy to help me cope," he explained. Then he sighed, "Look, maybe I should simply tell you some facts about my life, so you understand. I was an angry kid, Sara. I used to get into fights and sometimes I had to be pulled away." He confessed, "I used to go after bullies at school, so I was some kind of hero to some, but I wasn't. I simply wanted an excuse to beat up someone. The problem was that I always got depressed afterwards-"

"You realized that it was wrong."

"I guess."

"What made you stop?"

"I didn't, not really. I simply learned to channel my anger." He shrugged. After a pause he said, "I was a very perceptive kid, Sara. Even as a kid, I knew what my problem was and tried to do something about it. I asked a teacher to help me get a Scholarship to study in other state. I wanted to get out of my mom's house." He looked at her and said, "I wanted to get away from my mom."

"Why?"

"Because I felt trapped. She was deaf, and she didn't talk, so I had to talk for her. I was fed up." He said simply. Then he added with some reluctance, "I was angry at her and at everybody else. I thought leaving was the answer. But in the end I failed to get the Scholarship."

"What did you do then?"

"Remember what I told you about doors closing up? I felt they were all slamming shut. Summer was coming up; I knew I'd be walled up at home for two months and I couldn't take it. I took a handful of pills, my mom took me to a hospital-"

He would never admit this to her, but he had liked it there. He'd slept most of the time and the doctors' questions didn't bother him much. However, at the end of one week, people started coming in, intruding on his little paradise. Father Sebastian came, as well as some teachers; they all wanted to help but didn't know how; frankly, they were all embarrassed by the situation. But the one person who really helped him was the ER doctor. He didn't pity him or muttered platitudes about sin; he simply got him a job that kept him busy from them on.

"What did your mom say?" asked Sara.

"She was hurt by my behavior," he admitted, "She would cry and try to talk to me, and I'd pretend to be asleep. What a bastard, huh?" he said disgustedly. "When I went back home, she didn't ask much from me anymore. She went to school and learned to read lips, she even became a teacher-"

"And the boyfriends-"

"Never again."

"And you too went back to school-"

"And studied hard." He finished. "I was determined never to lose a Scholarship again."

He didn't mention the fact that the suicide attempt cost him the few friends he had. Parents forbade their kids to talk to the suicidal weirdo. And Grissom simply withdrew. He knew he deserved some punishment for what he had done. He became a ghost.

"I didn't get in trouble until I was in College." He said thoughtfully, "I beat up someone during a holiday break. I was depressed and I stopped going to classes; and-" he watched her closely as he said in a rush, "I drank and took drugs and was promiscuous."

"Wow." She said softly.

"Surprised?" he asked, knowing very well that she was. He wondered if she was disappointed too, but he couldn't tell from her expression. "We were a pathetic bunch, Sara. We went from one party to another and we slept with strangers, and we called that fun." He said, and then he added, "We drank and numbed ourselves but the next day our problems were still there. I even avoided looking into mirrors; I couldn't bear to see what I'd become." Then he smiled and added, "They used to call me 'Troy'." When she frowned, he added, "For Trojan. I was the only one who wore protection. I guess I still had some sort of social conscience."

"What made you stop?"

"Phillip Gerard talked to me. He said I was letting my personal life interfere with what he called a great career. He made me realize that I'd let my loneliness dictate my actions. I'd ended up degrading myself just to fill a void in my life. He said that the void would always be there, no matter what I did, while a career would make me forget that it existed. I thought that made sense."

"But one should never have to choose between a career and a personal life." Sara protested.

"Well, at the time I didn't have much of a personal life." He admitted, "When Gerard gave me that speech, I'd just puked all over myself and he and Gary were cleaning me up." He reddened, "I didn't feel too proud of my actions right then, Sara. And Gerard… he was like a father to me. I'd needed a father figure for so long, I simply followed his advice. And I really wasn't sacrificing much; I'd decided long ago that I'd never have a wife or kids-"

"Because you thought you would repeat your parents' mistakes."

"Yeah. For instance, I knew that I might inherit my mother's deafness. I didn't want a child of mine screaming for help, knowing that I wouldn't be able to hear him. Or hiding because of my temper. I chose a career and I'm glad I did. It opened up a vast world of knowledge, Sara. I filled my life with books and crime puzzles; I was busy… and I didn't miss anything."

I don't need no arms around me
I don't need no drugs to calm me
Don't think I need anything at all
No don't think I need anything at all

"That is…" he hesitated. He looked at her, "Until I met you." He'd never met a girl like her. She was pretty but didn't worry about being attractive for 'the guys'. She didn't care about other people's opinion of her, she was smart and fearless and strong... Her only fault was the weakness she felt for him. "You're the only woman I've ever loved completely." He confessed.

She reddened at the intensity of this statement. She had to force herself not to throw her arms around him right then.

"Gil," she said, her voice quivering a little, "I think you've been too hard on yourself all your life. Everybody gets angry now and then; you simply repressed your anger so long that it exploded, and then you punished yourself. " she hesitated, "And you closed your heart to others."

He smiled faintly.

"You're right. That's what I did." He admitted, "It was the wrong way to deal with life, although it made sense at the time. I repressed my anger, but… I repressed every other feeling, too. I didn't know that in the long run it would be pointless, because feelings have a way of showing up. For instance, I get migraines whenever I don't show my anger or any other strong emotion." He looked pointedly at her, "People think I don't feel anything, but I'm always aware of my emotions, Sara; I simply don't act on them. I analyze them and explain them, and watch them from a distance. I watched you." He confessed, "But I couldn't tell you that I loved you, because if I allowed one feeling to come out, the rest would follow."

"Anger"

"And memories." He added. He took a deep breath. "I kept a hold on myself until I read your note, last night. You said you were my friend, and suddenly, I was reminded of all the times I'd needed one…" he gulped, "It was very moving." he admitted, "And suddenly all those feelings and memories that I'd kept in the back of my mind were there, in the open. Things that I did-" He closed his eyes, and couldn't say anything else for a while.

"You can talk about them now." She said encouragingly.

"It's not easy-"

"I know." She said, "I know it's hard to trust, Gil. It took me a long time to trust anyone but I don't mind the wait; I have you now. Do you remember last night?" She waited until he looked at her, "Remember how I slept like a baby, in your arms? I'd never done that before. I would either leave or stay awake until the guy left. I'd never trusted anyone the way I trust you. Last night, there was a moment when I just-" she blushed, "I gave myself to you. You could have done anything. You could have simply taken me, but you didn't. You gave everything back. You showed your feelings, and you were wonderful-"

"Maybe I forgot who I am." He gulped.

"Maybe you remembered who you wanted to be." She replied. She touched his hand, comfortingly, invitingly… but he didn't move this time. "What I want to say is that I love you." She said, "Whoever you are."

He wanted to believe that, and he truly wanted to touch her… But he knew that if he did, the feelings would be so strong that he'd lower his defenses… and then he wouldn't be able to stop the memories from crowding his mind. He couldn't tell her.

He was too ashamed.

"You don't have to talk right now." Sara said, backing off a little. She didn't want him to withdraw from her; she needed something relatively harmless to talk about. "Why don't you call your aunt?" she said, "She would love to hear from you."

"Not now, Sara."

"She loves you." She reminded him, "She has always regretted not letting you stay when you asked them."

She said and then she frowned, "By the way, she told me that your mom was involved with a good man once. It was one of the reasons they didn't take you in. Who was he?"

Grissom closed his eyes for a second and she could see he was making an effort to answer calmly.

"Emmy told you a lot of things." He said bitterly. "What else did she say?"

"Well…" She hesitated, "She just mentioned this guy as someone who could have been like a father to you."

He scoffed. He looked at her for a long time.

"What the hell," he muttered. "His name was Donald Jones. He was a cop, and he moved in shortly after my father left for good." He said, as if he were simply reading a list. "He learned to sign just to woo my mom, and he was the first to really take an interest in me." He looked away, "He took me to games and he took me to the police station." He smiled faintly, "He let me sit behind the wheel of his patrol car from time to time-"

Sara smiled; cops did that to gain children's trust.

He was silent for a while. He remembered those good times bitterly. He'd been conned along with his mother.

"I learned to trust him," He said, thoughtfully, "and I didn't watch out for signs. So, that first night when he came home drunk and started screaming at my mother, it was as if another man had stepped into his shoes."

"Oh, shit." Sara muttered wishing she hadn't mentioned him, "I thought being a cop would be a plus-"

"You know cops. When the tension builds up, most of them take it out at the gym or at the bar, but some of them take it out at home. With him it was a monthly event at home."

"I'm so sorry, Grissom." She said sincerely.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" He asked, disgustedly, "The first time that it happened, I blamed my mom. I thought she'd done something to make him mad, just as she'd made my dad mad. Even as this guy hit her, I was angrier at her than him for ruining things. But it was my fault. I'd let him con me. "

"Is that-" she gulped, "Is that why you wanted to live with your aunt?"

He looked at her and he tried to say something, but in the end he simply nodded. Then he said

"He called me Virgil." He said after a moment, "My parents had always called me Gil, but this guy-" He suddenly said in a hoarse voice, "Vir-Gil" he was clearly imitating the cop's voice and he must have done it well because he actually shivered. "Vir-Gil, daddy's hee-eere."

"Damn, damn." She muttered, "Gil, doesn't that make it hard for you to work with cops?"

"Not really. I like the fact that I can make or break their cases. Sometimes I do have the upper hand."

"You should have told your aunt. She simply believed what your mom had said about him."

Hush now baby, baby don't you cry
Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you
Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing
Ooooh babe, ooooh babe, ooooh babe
Of course mama's gonna help build the wall

"It was a secret." He explained, "We were always keeping secrets, Sara; we were cowards, the two of us."

"You were just a kid, Grissom." She amended, "She was the adult. She should have protected you, always" she said. She patted his hand, "I can understand your anger now. But you need to let go. Maybe you ought to talk to her-"

"I can't." he said curtly,

"Grissom, you need to. Maybe she herself tried to talk and you didn't let her-"

"Sara, I told you, we don't talk. Ever. We discuss books and philosophy but that's it."

"Ok." She said, backing off for a moment, "But don't make the same mistake with your aunt. Call her. She needs to hear from you. Did you know that she keeps a scrapbook? She's collected everything that's been published about you. She knows you have a great career, but in her heart you're still the little kid she couldn't help." Then she glanced at him, "Although she tried, didn't she? Years later, they wanted to take you home with them-"

"Yes, but-"

"But you said no. And Emmy says that you had changed-"

"I'd just tried to kill myself, Sara-" he said brutally "-of course I'd changed. And they were just feeling guilty-" he dismissed, "I didn't want compassion." He looked at her, pointedly, "Compassion never got me anywhere."

He clearly wanted to avoid talking about this, and for a moment they remained in silence.

Daddy's gone across the ocean

Leaving just a memory

A snapshot in the family album

Daddy what else did you leave for me?

"Hey, my father left me a book on butterflies." He said suddenly, evidently welcoming the chance to change the subject. "The text wasn't very scientific, but I really loved that book."

"Really?" she smiled, "Did it help you choose your career?"

"I'm sure it did." He nodded thoughtfully, "You know, I think I have that book somewhere; the blood ruined some pages, but-" he paused. All color drained from his face. He had a sudden picture of blood spraying and staining his precious book, and a scream-

"Grissom? What is it?"

"Nothing." He said, but Sara noticed the change in his features, mostly in his eyes. Cold, lifeless eyes. Thankfully he looked away almost at once. But now he felt a sudden need to talk.

"Don took me to the firing range, once. He wanted to teach me to shoot but I refused. Was he pissed at me!" he smiled briefly, "But I paid attention to everything he did. So… one night, just as he started fighting with my mom, I-" he took a deep breath, "I went to the living room, took the gun he'd left on the table, and shot him-"

"Grissom-" She gasped "God, Gil, did you hurt him?

"Yeah. There was a lot of blood." He nodded, matter-of-factly.

"What did your mom do?"

"I think she took the gun away from me. Or maybe I dropped it, I don't know. I do remember that she locked me in my room; I heard an ambulance come and go, I heard some voices… and then nothing. When my mom came back, she looked as if she had aged years in a single day. She said everything would be all right, and a few days later we moved."

"You moved?" she frowned, "But what about him?"

"I don't know." He said,

"You and your mom never talked about it?"

"We must have at some point, but I don't remember. But it changed us, Sara. My mom dated less after that. I got into fights. I must have known, deep inside, that I'd done something terrible-"

"You felt guilty-"

"And ashamed-"

"And you tried to die because of it." She finished. They remained in silence for a moment. "When your uncle offered to take you with them you said no." she said thoughtfully, "You never went back, not even for a visit."

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Why? Did you think they would find out about the shooting?"

"I just wasn't who they thought I was."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew what I had done." He said slowly, "I knew who I was and what I was capable of-"

"Grissom, you were just trying to protect your mom-" argued Sara.

"You don't understand." He replied, "I didn't do it for her. I did it because I wanted to hurt him." He confessed, "I may have felt guilt afterwards but not at that moment. I was glad that he was in pain. I loved the look of dumb surprise on his face." He scoffed, "He couldn't believe I'd shot him; he just kept looking down at the blood spreading on his clothes and then at me… And all I could think of was that I was safe at last-"

Sara frowned. There was something that bothered her. Why had Grissom reacted like that, this time? For him to pick a gun and shoot someone… something must have happened-

She didn't know how she found the answer; maybe it was the knowledge gathered in many little pieces that suddenly came together as in a jigsaw puzzle: The sudden promiscuity, the self destruction… the rage... the way he had shut the world off. The way he avoided touch…

Some of his earlier words made sense now. He must have screamed for his mother's help, but she couldn't hear him. And like a victim of abuse, he felt he'd done something to deserve it, ('I let him con me.'), and had kept quiet about it. They never talked about anything…

"He did something awful to you." She whispered, watching out for his reaction. Sara saw the deep blush… and the dead eyes again. "And you stopped him before he did it again."

He looked away. He wished he could block the memory of his taunts, as easily. But they were there ('oh, cry baby' 'da-dee's heee-eere, Veeer-geeel…') which had made him hate his name so much, or ('Cry babies tell their mommies, Vir-gil.').

He was surprised to hear himself talk.

"He waited 'til my mom fell asleep." He said softly. "She'd never hear anything-"

Sara's eyes filled with tears.

"Son of a bitch" she muttered, trembling in anger.

"Yeah." He nodded softly.

"He's the one who kept you from visiting your aunt, then."

"No." he shook his head, "he didn't mind; he knew I'd never say anything. I was the one who refused. I just couldn't go. I wasn't the same anymore. I didn't want them to know."

"And when they asked you to live with them-"

"I said no. It was too late." he said, staring ahead, "I was so damn angry… and ashamed." He'd felt unclean, undeserving of their love, now more than ever.

"Emmy would have loved you anyway-"

"No." He said, shaking his head, "No. She would have felt pity. Like you."

Sara gulped. She desperately tried to find a way to reach out to him.

"I am sorry that you lived through all that, Grissom." She said carefully, "But what I feel right now is anger." She said, "You had a right to be angry, all these years ago. I wish someone had told you that. I wish-" She paused for a moment, and then she added, "I wish I could have been there, to keep him from hurting you. I would have crushed his throat with my hands-"

To her surprise, he smiled.

"No, Sara." he said fondly, "You believe in justice, not revenge."

"Yes; but I'd do anything to protect you." She said firmly.

He finally looked at her, and it was as if he was seeing her for the first time today. This woman, so strong and beautiful, so different from any other woman he'd ever met… she would really do anything for him. Nobody had ever done that.

She had said it many times, but now he believed her.

"You love me." He said wonderingly.

"Yes."

He reached out a trembling hand to her.

TBC