March, 1982
Gil Grissom was, for lack of a better cliché, was the happiest guy in California today. As he signed in at the morgue, he felt like whistling. He'd seriously never been this jovial since he began working at the coroner's four years ago. He had to ask himself why he was so elated at a job that revolved around death. It wasn't until he sat down at his desk to review last night's autopsy reports that he remembered the reason why: and her name was Nicolette de L'eau.
Nicolette and Gil had been together for exactly five years to the day. He had made plans for that night. He wanted to take her out, make her feel special…and propose marriage.
Gil opened one of the drawers of his desk and found the gray box containing the ring he'd selected for Nicolette. He ran his fingers over the box, sending a picture to his brain. It was a 24K gold band with a one karat diamond perched on top, flanked by a heart-shaped diamond on either side. It was genius in its simplicity. Naturally, he didn't want a ring so beautiful that it would overshadow Nicolette herself.
Ah, Nicolette. She was Gil's first serious relationship. Sure, he'd had a few girlfriends in high school and a few in college before he met Nicolette.
They met at UCLA when Gil was a junior and Nicolette was a freshman. She had gotten hopelessly lost on her first day on campus on her way to a class and asked him for directions while he was reading beneath a tree. When he heard her sweet voice and looked up at her, he swore she was an angel. They got to talking and discovered they shared some interests and the same ambitions.
Nicolette de L'eau was a French-Canadian beauty with strawberry-blonde hair and eyes the color of the desert sky at dusk: a mysterious mix between violet and blue. They were never the same color twice. Her skin was flawless alabaster and just beneath her collarbone was a birthmark Gil's lips had kissed more than once. She was twenty-three and smoked flavored cigarettes her sister mailed to her from their small town Quebec, Peu de Pré. She sent monthly video messages to her aunt Violette in France. Her gentle French accent became heavier if she was mad or excited. She was an intern now at the LA County Coroner's Office, under Gil's watch. She taught Gil how to rock climb and speak conversational French while Gil taught her about butterfly species and how to lift footprints using tinting paper and a car battery.
Thinking about Nicolette made Gil crazy. She was his drug, a lifting psychedelic acid he dropped on his tongue that made the colors of the world swirling and bright.
Gil had to find her, see her, be in her presence for five minutes before starting any work. He wanted to touch her skin, feel her hair and maybe have a quickie in the broom closet, something Nicolette enjoyed. They had almost gotten caught a couple of times but it was what she lived for—the thrill of being caught.
Gil walked down the hall, nodding and greeting those he knew; politely smiling to those he didn't.
"Morning, Gil," greeted Sam, one of Gil's co-workers. He worked in the lab, running blood tests and such. He was heavyset and tall, over six feet, with dark hair and glasses and an olive skin tone.
"Morning," Gil replied. "Have you seen Nicolette?"
"Uh, yeah," Sam grinned, almost laughing. Gil and Nicolette's relationship was like a high school romance: everyone knew about it, but nobody spoke about it. "She's with Martha in Exam Room One."
"Thanks." Gil hurried off without another word.
He wound his way around corridors, dodging further conversation with anyone now that he had his destination until he came to the examination rooms.
"Gil?"
Martha Dillon, one of Gil's colleagues, stepped out of one of the exam rooms.
"Hello," Gil smiled at her. Martha was like his older sister, kind hearted and generous, always ready with a smile that made you feel like when a warm cup of coffee was spreading through your insides. She was in her late thirties, blonde and blue-eyed with sharp features that spoke of Scandinavian decent.
"Are you looking for Mademoiselle Nicolette?" Martha joked.
"How'd you guess?"
Martha put a soft hand on his cheek, "Silly. You have a pep in your step, of course. Twinkle in those pretty blue eyes of yours. That smile."
Gil blushed. "Is it that obvious?"
Rolling her eyes heavenward, Martha's grin remained on her face, "You're in love, Gil. It's always obvious."
Gil chuckled.
"Love is a many splendored thing," she warbled, just to make Gil laugh again. "Aw, Gil, you dog you. Nicolette's just writing up some notes on Henry Williams's autopsy. I'm sure she'd welcome your liveliness."
"Thanks, Martha," Gil gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
"Go get 'em, tiger," Martha laughed. She watched Gil, like a teenaged boy, disappear into room one. She shook her head, grinned and went for a cup of coffee.
"Nicolette?"
Gil found his gorgeous girlfriend, in her white coat with jeans and a soft yellow shirt underneath, sitting beside Henry Williams's body. But she was not taking notes. Instead, she was sobbing profusely, her hands shaking so much she could barely get a grip on her pen.
"Nicolette?" Gil was alarmed and rushed to her side, embracing her. "Nicolette, are you alright?"
"Gil, thank God," Nicolette wrapped her arms around his. "I'm so scared…" she sobbed into his shoulder.
"Of what, baby? Of what?" Gil stroked her beautiful hair, the morning sun turning it more red.
"Please don't hate me but—" Nicolette cut herself off.
"But what?"
"I…" she opened her mouth but no words came out, just a dry squeak.
"Nicolette," Gil said firmly, "tell me."
"I can't. You'll get angry."
"I promise I won't."
"You have to promise!"
"Nicolette, I just did. Tell me."
Nicolette hesitated so Gil prompted her, "Don't hate you but what?"
Inhaling and then giving a deep, shuddery sigh, Nicolette replied, "…but I'm pregnant, Gil."
Gil didn't hear the words coming out of her mouth. He was concentrating on how beautifully she said his name: Geel. Hard "G", drawn-out "I" and short "L". The French accent made it sound so sexy, so enticing, so—
"Gil, did you hear me? I'm pregnant! With your baby!"
Yes. He had heard. He didn't want to but he did. He disentangled his arms from her body and felt a swell in his chest and swallowed back tears. The next words out of his mouth made him feel like a stereotypical asshole boyfriend:
"Are you positive it's mine?"
"Gil!!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know that was really shallow…"
"What am I suppost to do?" Nicolette dropped her hands to her lap. "I can't have a baby. I'm not ready."
"Well, Nicolette, you're not the only one having the baby," Gil knelt beside her and put his hands on her knee. "It's…it's mine too. Nicolette, haven't you thought about this? We've been together for a long time. We…we can get married, raise this child together. Husband, wife; mother, father." He put his hand to her stomach, where his child was hiding behind. "Marry me, Nicolette."
Nicolette pursed her lips and tossed her hair back. Tears glistened on her cheeks and Gil felt an uncontrollable urge to kiss each little griefhoney away, his lips to her perfect skin.
"What do you say?" Gil prodded. "A baby with your gorgeous strawberry hair, my striking blue eyes and your accent. We can do it, Nicolette."
Nicolette stroked Gil's cheek with the back of her hand, which was slightly rough with stubble and Gil felt faint. She smelled of licorice flowers.
She hesitated before answering, those cerulean eyes of his boring holes into her, their intense gaze encouraging her to answer.
"I'm sorry Gil," she sighed finally. "But no."
Gil felt his heart tear in two. "No?"
"Marriage? A baby? Gil, I cannot do that. That's not the life I want and I know that's not what you want—"
"You're right. It's not what I want," Gil said, taking Nicolette's porcelain hands in his. "But if it means a lifetime with you, then it's the only thing in the world I really do want."
Exhaling slowly like a beaten balloon, Nicolette shook her head, "Talk all you want, Gil, but I don't believe you."
Defeated, Gil sighed heavily and mournfully rested his head in her lap. "You've heard what I want to do," he said, looking up at her. "What do you want to do?"
Nicolette ran her fingers through his hair. "You're graying already. See what I've done to you in five years, mon cher?"
Gil picked his head up sharply, "Don't change the subject. Answer me, Nicolette." He picked himself off the floor and pulled up a stool. He sat across from his beloved and looked her in those peculiar eyes. There was a world inside them, a mythical universe behind those irises the color of the desert sky at dusk.
"Homme diabolique," she cursed at him, angrily. "I can't tell you want I want. You would only hate me."
Gil was unnerved by her outburst. "I couldn't hate you."
"Then…you'll let me get an abortion?"
Gil felt his heart skip a beat. What could he say? He wanted to scold her, tell her "no" as if speaking to a dog. He wanted to yell and scream at such a suggestion. How could she suggest something like that when here he was, more than willing to marry her and take care of her and the child. Abortions were for those who were alone, who had no other choice, not for the lucky ones like Nicolette, if one could call her that.
Instead, Gil swallowed hard and replied, "If that is what you really want."
"I do."
Gil hung his head and prayed for his tears to stay corked up.
"I'm sorry, Gil. But I don't want this baby. Listen, I'm almost ten weeks. It's now or never. So I'll be going as soon as possible."
Gil couldn't help but agree, "I understand. I completely understand." With that, he got up from the stool and began to exit.
"But do you agree?" Nicolette spoke up.
Gil turned to her and stared a long while. He noticed she looked younger than she really was. "I can't answer that, Nicolette."
Gil returned to his office and locked the door. He went to his desk drawer and found the gray box containing the now-useless ring. He put it in his hand and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a thunk and fell to the tile floor. Gil put his head in his hands and rested his elbow on the desk. Then, before he drowned in maddening sadness, he uncorked his bottle of forbidden tears.
That was the last time Gil and Nicolette saw each other. The next day she never showed up for work, nor the next nor the next. It was rumored she had quit and been transferred and before Gil knew it, he was being transferred himself, to Las Vegas. The only person left he felt was worth saying good-bye to was Martha.
"Gil, honey," Martha said sadly, pulling Gil away from the going-away party the other coroners had wholeheartedly put together for him. "I know you're hurting. You've been missing Nicolette something awful, don't you?"
"No," he said quickly.
"Yes, you are."
Gil didn't want to admit Martha was right, but he didn't want to argue. These four years without his beautiful Nicolette were empty of emotion. Gil began to feel like a robot, eating, working and moving mechanically. He wasn't sure if he had a heart anymore.
"Just promise me one thing," Martha hugged her "little brother". "If you find a lovely young girl in Vegas and want to marry her, invite me to the wedding."
Gil gave a small chuckle for the first time in years. "I promise."
"Have a big wedding, with lots of flowers and people. No crappy little nuptial in a plastic Vegas chapel. I don't want to get a postcard in two weeks saying you got hitched by an Elvis impersonator," she scolded.
"You won't."
"And then, make me the godmother of your first child?" Martha added as a joke.
This time, Gil laughed out loud. "I'll think on that."
"And play a few games of craps for me."
"I don't gamble, Martha."
"But I do," Martha pulled the corners of her mouth down. "Last time I played a decent game of craps was at my sister's wedding all the way back east in Atlantic City three years ago. To top it off, Jake hates Vegas, he'd never go with me. And it's no fun going by yourself."
Gil sighed. "Don't I know it."
Before Gil left the LA County Coroner's Office, he did one last thing. After he had packed up all the knickknacks in his office, he wrote out a check for five hundred dollars and put Nicolette's name on it. He left it on Martha's desk. He assumed she would know what to do with it.
He left for Las Vegas early the next morning, leaving behind in California a futile engagement ring and enough hurt to fill the San Andreas Fault.
Present Day
Grissom awoke suddenly in a cold sweat with an ache in his shoulders and lower back. The clock on his night table read four-forty AM. It was the first time he'd been able to sleep peacefully since his surgery and here he was, awake and restless.
He sat up in bed and realized he was clutching his sheets and his duvet was entangled around and beneath his legs. Grissom groaned, reached over and groped for his glasses. He put them on and let his eyes adjust to the extreme darkness. The only light in the room was the dim red of the heat lamp from his tarantula terrarium. His throat was very dry; he couldn't swallow. The first thing that came to his mind was a name he hadn't spoken or thought of in more than twenty years.
Nicolette de L'eau.
The name echoed around the room like a lost ghost. A chill went up Grissom's spine and he didn't want to go back to sleep as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
After the episode with Nicolette had put him through way back when, it wasn't long before he established himself as an emotionless robot or the Tin Man with a Heart or any other name he had been called by staff and/or suspects due to his iciness and sarcastic, hard-ass attitude.
Grissom sat up in bed and curled his knees to his chest, leaning against the headboard, listening to his own breathing. He wondered what he would be like had Nicolette married him and they'd had their child. Perhaps he would be less callous, less harsh, less of a work-a-holic insomniac. More concerned about the welfare of children involved in the cases. Basically, he would be more like Catherine.
Rubbing his eyes, Grissom pushed all thoughts of Nicolette out of his mind. Then his cell phone rang, making his heart jump.
He answered with a raspy, "Grissom" and returned to his Tin Man persona.