OOU 19?
I know, this feels a little nuts to me too, three chaps in a little over a week, but the muse isn't just talking to me right now, the little diva is singing an aria, so I figured I better get all I can before she runs out of breath.
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THIRTY MINUTES LATER:
Emerging from the interrogation room, Gil found he could barely pick up his feet. He was utterly exhausted, in a way he had never experienced before. On a day several months back, when he supposed he had been looking unusually tired, Greg had thrown out something about people he called "psychic vampires". He'd said there were certain people he'd met once and then avoided ever after because they seemed to drain all of his energy and positive emotion away simply by being in the same room. Grissom would not have used the same term, but he was ready to believe in the existence of such people, and more than ready to believe that Brett Sawyer was one.
He made it to his office, but just barely. He closed the door by leaning against it and slowly slid to the floor, hands over his face. Gradually strains of music began to fill his head. At first they were an unrecognizable jumble, but as he focused, the mess turned into "Amazing Grace". Desperate for anything that promised renewed strength, he mentally brought the words in over the melody and, little by little, felt his body responding to the comfort the familiar tune offered.
When Jim knocked on his door a few minutes later, he was able to rise and welcome his friend.
"Hi, Jim."
"Hey. You look like I feel."
"And vice-versa. Come on in." he said, closing the door after the other man. Grissom moved behind his desk and dropped heavily into his seat, Jim took the chair across from him.
"That... was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. No interrogation ever took it out of me like that... I'm whipped."
"I think part of it was being forced to keep our emotions so tightly under control. The rest... I think was Sawyer."
He explained Greg's theory about energy vampires. Brass grinned.
"Sounds like something the kid would come out with. It does make sense though... in a way. I've known people like that. They walk into a room and... zap! Over the course of a few minutes, everybody stops laughing, talking... the whole place goes dead and you feel like you have to step outside just to take a deep breath."
Grissom's eyes drifted to his stereo.
"Music is so powerful... I think I knew that before all this, but it's just hitting me all over again. I came in here a little while ago and... I couldn't stay on my feet. The only thing that made it any better was when "Amazing Grace" popped into my head. The music..."
"I know. I keep thinking about what I picked to put on Sanders' CD... when I'm at my lowest point, I go home and listen to it... and the world's not such a crappy place anymore."
"What did you pick?"
"Heh... you'll never believe it. Nobody will when they find out. They just won't make the connection..."
"Okay, now I have to know."
"Uhhh..."
The rest of the sentence came out a deliberate mumble. Gil smiled.
"One more time?"
Brass sighed and stared at his hands, but this time the name came out clearly.
"Josh Groban."
Grissom raised an eyebrow but gave no real indication of shock or distaste.
"He's one of the most amazing voices I've heard in years; this generation's Caruso according to the industry insiders. What's so embarrassing about knowing good music when you hear it?"
"I've got a rep..."
"Tough, cool under pressure, somebody no criminal or situation can shake up?"
"In a nutshell."
"That used to be my image of myself. I'm finding it doesn't really work for me anymore. It was a way of cutting myself off... distancing when I should have been going deeper. I remember walking into a victim's apartment a while back. Catherine called it a cave. There was almost no variation in color, minimal furniture... the guy used it as a place to sleep, eat and have sex, but not much more. At the time, I didn't see anything wrong with that. I looked at my apartment the other night... and suddenly I had a whole new perspective. Except for the fact that I have an insect collection and not much nookie goes on there, my place was basically the same as his."
"And the point of this impromptu episode of a decorating show is..."
"I have a rep, too. I'm seen as cold, indifferent and married to the job. I push people away... lock my heart in a little steel box and let everybody think what they like about my reasons. It's not enough anymore."
"Gil... what are you trying to say?"
"That I need to make changes and God only gives us so much time. I'm starting to realize that if I waste much more of it... there won't be enough left to fix things." Grissom told him, standing and moving toward the door. He paused to squeeze Jim's shoulder and reassure himself about the case. "Sawyer... there's no doubt we've got him?"
"None."
"Greg might not have to testify?"
"Never a guarantee, but the odds are in his favor."
"Good. He needs everything on his side that we can give him. I'll see you for shift tonight."
"Yeah..."
"Jim... promise me you'll think about what I said?"
"Huh? Oh.. oh, yeah. I promise."
"I forgot to ask what song of Groban's you picked. I have some idea. There's one that fits Greg perfectly... "You Raise Me Up"?"
"Nail on the head."
"Nice selection."
"As many times as he's made me laugh when I didn't think there was one in me... I thought so too."
"Worth risking your reputation for?"
"It will be when the kid wakes up..."
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THE HOSPITAL:
"Nick, you of all people know the demon that survivor's guilt can be. I understand why you're battling it right now, but in this case it doesn't apply. You said it yourself earlier. There are two options when you've been abused; get help or bury the memories. It isn't your fault that Sara made the choice she did or that she was so good at covering that none of us even guessed anything was wrong."
"It's not just a demon, Cath... it's a whole herd of 'em. Everything you've been tellin' me makes sense. It's just so damn hard to let go of the feelin' I coulda helped her if I'd seen it earlier..."
"She hasn't hopped a UFO to Neptune, Nicky. She's around somewhere and when we find her we will help her. I've been thinking... if we can talk Greg into outpatient therapy, the three of you could go together."
"Me? Uh-uh. I don't need no shrink gettin' in my head and stirrin' up the hornets. I dealt with happened to me a long time ago."
"I'm sure that's what Sara thought."
"Catherine..."
"When was the last time you had a date? How about the last time the thought of getting intimate with somebody didn't make you sick to your stomach?"
"Damn it, stop..." he ordered tensely, turning his face away from her line of sight.
"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for him... so he doesn't feel alone. You don't have to participate. If you get indirect benefit from it, no big deal, but we have a better chance of Greg agreeing to get help if there's at least one person there he trusts."
"God... I'll think about it, that's all."
"Thank you."
"Don't go pickin' out a card and flowers yet. I ain't made up my mind."
"I just realized... you and Greg have something else in common. The night you first told me about what happened to you, I think you said you didn't remember the actual abuse... that the memory started afterwards, when you were laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling."
Nick choked back a sob and cleared his throat before speaking.
"Yeah, well there's one big check mark in the "Hell No" column. Greggo... the drugs wiped out the rape for him. He may never remember everything. Me... I blocked my memory of that night. That means it's still there... waitin' for me to come find it. If just knowin' it happened has made me feel this bad all these years... I don't wanna find out what havin' the details would do to me..."
"Like I said, you don't have to join in. Just being there would be enough to make him feel safe."
"Maybe... I'll see, okay? Don't push... gimme time."
"You'll have plenty of that." Gil commented softly as he entered.
"What's that supposed to mean, boss?"
"Starting tomorrow night, you're on a medical leave of absence."
"What? How long?"
"A month."
"A month! I can't take a month off. The doc this morning said this hand'll be back to normal in a week, tops..."
"And I might have fallen for that if I hadn't spoken to him on my way back in just now."
"Gris..."
"One month, Nick. No negotiation. You'll get the standard three-quarter pay for all four weeks. Your little fit of pique has cost you this week's wages, by the way. There's also a letter of reprimand in your jacket."
"That's all? Man I thought I was at least gonna get my ass chewed."
"The punishment fit the offense in my view. I'm satisfied. Hodges, on the other hand, is far from happy. Be prepared for a few sixth grade stunts when you get back."
"You don't think he'll do anything worse?"
"He's not clever enough to be dangerous. If he tried anything more serious than glue on your chair, he'd be the first and only victim."
"And five minutes after that he'd be out the door for good."
"To the delight of everyone on night shift." Catherine added.
"I'm sure."
"I gotta tell you the idea Sara and I cooked up. If I didn't know it'd get us fired..."
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