A/N: After many days of struggling with this story, I've decided that this will be the last chapter (I might do an epilogue some time in the future). I hope you all like it -- sorry . . . it's not the happiest ending. Happy reading, Jac.
I went to the same old, dirty diner where they sat at the same greasy table probably ordering the same things they always ordered. Sara would order pancakes, but end up eating some of the hashbrowns off Greg's plate. Greg would order a garbage omelet full of various meats, cheeses, and vegetables that must somehow come together in harmony. Nick always got sausage and biscuits with two eggs sunny side up, but he would end up eating one of Sara's pancakes. Warrick was the standard ham and cheese omelet. I had no idea what Sophia would eat. Normally it wouldn't matter, but I wished I knew her. I wished I knew the woman that I was torturing for my illness.
I came here to tell them. I came here to beg for their forgiveness. I wanted them to forgive me; I needed them to forgive me. I loved them more than I ever believed that I could love another human being. I had hurt them so much in so many different ways. There were five people at that table; I had hurt them direct or indirectly. They all suffered. I was sorry.
My mother always said you can't teach old dogs new tricks. That's why she never had her hearing restored by the technology available to her. That's why she was leery about every medication in her body. I hid behind my age too. I didn't let myself love; I didn't let myself have real, meaningful relationships. In the last two hours, I decided that I could no longer be like my mother. I didn't want to be the old, deaf man that dies alone in his house . . . discovered only after the stench becomes unbearable.
This morning their transfer requests made their way across my desk. I didn't know that I was losing them; I didn't know that I was losing them on terms not my own. I began to wonder why I began to push them away in the first place. I didn't want them to watch me suffer, so I isolated myself. It was dumb, Gil; that's the dumbest thing you've ever done. I realized that I needed them.
Sara's head was hung. I didn't know what to say to her. I had done so many unfair things to her; I held her responsible for all my problems. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her that I was sorry. I'm sure she wouldn't hear a word of it. It was too late for me to say those intimate things to her. I had done my damage. I had damaged her as much, if not more, than all the other men that had rendered her broken. I didn't mean to.
Greg . . . he's like the son I never imagined having. I didn't let him know that I was proud of him. I took a hands off approach to him; Sara was responsible for his growth as a CSI. She nurtured him in a way that I should have. This morning in my fleeting moments of wisdom, I wondered how I could hurt them.
"I'm not dying. I'm just going to lose my hearing my in right ear," I said ineptly. They nodded and pretended that they had just become privy to this information.
"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry I hurt you all," I whispered. I wondered if they could hear me . . . I could barely hear myself. Well, I knew I couldn't hear myself because my cells were proliferating in such a way that my inner ear was being occluded.
They didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say to them to make this any less awkward. Sara's head was still hung. Greg's chest moved so little that I need to stare at him to ensure that he was breathing. Nick and Warrick avoided eye contact with me. Sophia was the only one to look me dead in the eye as if she might just be thinking about how much pity she felt for me. I wondered if I had disappointed the people I cared about the most.
"It's going to get better after the surgery . . . I'm looking at electronic options to help me hear again," I rambled to fill the uncomfortable silence.
I cleared my throat.
"I don't want you to worry about me. You need to start worrying about yourselves. Don't let Eckley take away what I thought he did . . . he didn't take away the nightshift. Eckley just rearranged it," I said as I began to choke up, "Don't let him win."
I heard Sara whisper we won't.
Changes had always been compared to the seasons. I was lucky enough to have a season that last four and a half years. By all standards, I was lucky that bureaucracy hadn't come in and changed things so much earlier. I was lucky that my hearing hadn't changed things years before my nightshift had formed.
I sat looking at each member of my team . . . new and old. In them, I found the strength to begin to take all these changes head on. I hope, for their sake, they also start to take on all the changes in their lives. In this world, it's hard to idle . . . changes are inevitable.
FIN