Chapter 12: Hindsight's 20/20

As soon as Sara got the call from the bartender, Mike, she was out the door in an instant. While she was relieved to hear that Grissom wasn't hurt, she still felt angry and upset that he had gone and gotten himself drunk. She remembered hearing someone say once that people who drank to drown their sorrow should be told that sorrow can swim. Apparently no one had told Grissom that. But then, she reasoned, there was no evidence that he had been doing this on a regular basis. It appeared that this was his first time. Probably looking for the most effective sedative, she thought grimly as she pulled into the parking lot of the bar. But then, in the end, you couldn't really blame him; you could just hold on tight and attempt to outlast the storm, all the while praying that he was holding on as well. Sara had the strong suspicion that if he went down, she'd be right there beside him.

All her contemplations were brought to a halt when she entered the bar, however, and caught sight of Grissom. His shoulders were hunched, and his head rested on the bar. From where she stood Sara could see that his eyes were half-closed, and the look on his face was one of relaxed bliss.

"Oh, thank God," she murmured as she rushed forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. He didn't appear to even notice her though, and she sighed as she touched his cheek again in a last futile attempt to get his attention.

"I reckon you'll need some help getting him into the car," Mike said grudgingly from where he sat farther down the bar.

"Yes, please." Sara hadn't liked the guy from the first moment they had talked, but she was grateful to him for phoning her, so she forced herself to be polite.

It took them about eight minutes to get Grissom out to Sara's vehicle. He was limp and unresponsive, and they had to half-carry, half-drag him outside.

"Come on, Grissom," Sara moaned as they heaved him into the passenger seat, "help us out a little."

Grissom's only response was to blink at her, and if she hadn't been so stressed out she would have laughed at how owlish he looked. Finally, they had him tightly strapped in, and Sara thanked Mike, who merely ignored her and walked over to his own car.

"Well, aren't you friendly," she muttered as she climbed into the SUV and started the engine.

The drive back to Grissom's house was silent, with Grissom completely out of it and Sara too irritated to talk with him even if he could have responded coherently. Despite this, however, she still wished she could share his pain – carry some of the weight for him. Hell, she wished he would let her in, as well; wished that he would admit he loved her. But the odds weren't in her favour; never had been.

Suddenly, all her thoughts of goodwill towards Grissom were shattered as she pulled up in front of his house and her charge gave a low moan.

"Grissom?" she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and swore. "Shit, Gris, don't you dare!"

He had suddenly gone incredibly pale, and his face shone with sweat under the street lamp. He moaned again, and Sara practically fell out of the vehicle, tearing around the front and throwing open the passenger side door, dragging him out.

"You are not puking in my car, Grissom," she said through gritted teeth as she struggled to hold him up. It was no use, though, and as his knees gave out and he began to retch violently she was forced to set him down as gently as she could – which wasn't very gently at all – while he puked his guts out on the pavement. Finally, it was over, and he slumped back against the wheel of the SUV, his head rolling to his shoulder as he slipped into unconsciousness. Sara withheld a scream of pure frustration and anger, and brushed away the tears that were threatening to spill over. Obviously she couldn't just leave him out here, but she wouldn't be able to get him into the townhouse on her own, either, especially now that he was unconscious. Not that he would have been much help before. Suddenly, her cell phone rang, and she strode back around the vehicle and answered it.

"Sidle," she snapped.

"Whoa, girl, what's up with you?"

Sara groaned. "Sorry, Warrick, didn't knowit was you. And don't worry, it's not you that I'm upset with."

"Grissom, huh?" he said sympathetically. "Catherine told us. You heard from him yet?"

"Yes. He's right her beside me." Sara couldn't help it, and she began to laugh until she started hiccoughing.

"Uh, Sara? You all right?"

"No, I'm not all right," she said, sniffing as her laughter turned once again to tears. "Grissom went and got himself drunk, and he just threw up all over himself and I don't know how I'm going to get him into his house. I can't lift him."

"Grissom got drunk?" Warrick blurted in disbelief.

"Yeah. And now he's passed out and I can't lift him! What am I supposed to do?"

"Hey," Warrick said soothingly, "take it easy, it's all right. I'm driving now, I'll be there in a few minutes, and I'll help you. Just stay with him, ok?"

"All right." She couldn't understand it, but just the thought that she wouldn't be alone anymore made her feel so much better.


When Warrick pulled up, Sara immediately gave him a hug. He raised an eyebrow at her when she pulled back.

"Well, I never knew I was so special to you. Especially after the way you treated me the other night," he added teasingly.

"Shut up," she muttered, suddenly embarrassed, and he grinned.

"All right, where's this drunk supervisor of ours?"

"Drunken," Sara corrected, hitting him lightly.

He stared at her.

"You said drunk," she explained with a grin of her own. "The correct English would be 'drunken.'"

Warrick groaned. "Drunk, drunken, it all means the same thing, and I would bet that Grissom won't care whether I used proper English or not tomorrow when he wakes up with a hangover."

Sara sobered then, and nodded towards Grissom, who was still sat leaned against the tire of the SUV. "Can you just help me get him inside? I can probably take it from there… get him cleaned up a bit."

"I'll do whatever you need, Sar," he assured her, grabbing Grissom under the armpits and heaving him up, "I've got all day. I hope."

"What, Catherine has you on call?" she inquired as she leaned down so he could drape one of Grissom's arms over her shoulders.

"Yeah."

She grinned. "You go, Warrick!"

"If you weren't a girl, I'd kick your ass," was the disgruntled reply.

Working together, using a much more efficient method than the one Mike had used at the bar, they managed to get Grissom inside.

"Whew," Warrick breathed as they settled the scientist on his bed, "It's been a while since I had to lug around a body like that."

Sara snorted. "A body, Warrick?"

He narrowed his eyes at her threateningly. "You know what I mean, Sidle. The people I hang out with these days don't generally go around getting drunk – they're too busy working."

Realizing he was talking about her and the rest of the team, Sara glared right back at him. Then she couldn't help but grin at the innocent look on his face.

Once they had him cleaned up a bit, Sara rummaged through Grissom's drawers until she found a clean pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that spouted 'FORENSICS' across the chest,throwing them at Warrick..

"Here," she said, "get him into these."

"Sure thing, mom," he replied with a smirk, "Do you want me to tuck him in and read him a bedtime story as well?"

The death glare she sent his way didn't faze him and as she left the room she wondered, with a smirk plastered across her face, if maybe she'd overused the look in the past couple of weeks.

A few minutes later Warrick came out of Grissom's room to find Sara sitting on the couch, blankly staring at the blackened screen of the TV.

"Hey," he said, sitting down beside her and rubbing her arm comfortingly.

She turned to him, smiling a little when she realized what he was doing. "He still out?" she asked.

"Like a light. Probably will be for a couple of hours."

"No doubt," she returned dryly.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, and then Warrick turned to study her closely. "This whole thing… with Grissom… it's really getting to you, isn't it?"

Sara glanced up, startled. "What?"

"Must be hard, trying to take care of him, understand what he's going through, and keep your own sanity intact all at the same time."

"Warrick," she said warningly.

He pursed his lips, weighing the pros and cons of continuing. Then he merely smiled, and said lightly, "You'll be fine, Sara. And so will he. Just give it time."

For a moment Sara allowed herself to consider that statement, and realized he was right. She had no idea how long it would take for everything to be right again, but it would come. They might all be a little beat up, but essentially all right. She nodded slightly, acknowledging her friend's attempt at comforting her before she got up and wandered over to the kitchen. "You want something to eat?"

"From Grissom's fridge? No way, Sara, that could be life-threatening."

"Don't worry," she responded, smiling, "Everything here is safe. I checked it out beforehand."

"Ha, sure you did."

"I did, honestly," she assured him. "Besides, Grissom eats out of here all the time, what could be bad about it?"

Warrick snorted. "The guy's a nutcase, what couldn't be bad about it?"

It took them a while, but they finally managed to throw together enough ingredients to make themselves a decent breakfast. As they ate they talked, about anything and everything except work and Grissom. By the time Catherine phoned to inform Warrick that they had a break in their case and he was needed back at the lab, Sara felt she much more relaxed.

"Thanks, Warrick," she said as he pulled on his coat.

"No problem," he reassured her with the easy smile that was so familiar. "I've told you before, just call me if you need anything."

Sara's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Yeah, that's what Catherine said, too. I think I'll be fine now, though."

"Probably, you always were the independent type."

Shaking her head as he laughed, they said their goodbyes and Sara closed and bolted the door behind him. She chuckled to herself as she made her to Grissom's room, and peeked in on him for a moment. He was resting comfortably, the sheets pulled up to his chin, so she left him and returned to the living room where she switched on the TV. Maybe there would be something good on, though she doubted it at this time of the morning.


"Hey, Catherine," Warrick greeted the older woman as he walked into the break room to find her eating a sandwich as though she were in a race.

"Hey," she responded, with her mouth still full, and Warrick raised an eyebrow at her. She glared at him, and he chuckled.

"We got a hit in AFIS," she informed him then, "Brass is bringing the guy in for an interview."

"Sounds good," he said, taking a seat next to her. "Where's Nick?"

"Right here, Warrick, don't you worry about that."

Warrick glanced up to see Nick walking into the break room, and he winced and looked down as he caught sight of the black eye that jumped out from the Texan's face, and the red marks around his neck where Grissom's hands had grabbed him. Seeing the way Warrick looked down, Nick forced a smile.

"Hey, man, it looks worse than it is."

"Ahh," Warrick joked, "You don't have to be tough for me, Nicky."

At that, Nick's face split in a real smile, and Warrick sat back with a happy sigh. "You don't have to worry about Grissom anymore," he said then, realizing that they would probably want to know that their supervisorwas all right. "He's safe in bed with Sara standing guard over him like a hawk."

That got their attention, and they both turned to stare at him. "Where was he?" Nick blurted out.

"At a bar, getting drunk out of his mind."

"Grissom got drunk?" The Texan said disbelievingly, and Warrick smiled.

"That's exactly what I said, and yeah, he got drunk all right. Right after he puked out his guts all over the pavement in front of his townhouse he passed out."

Catherine winced. "Ohhh, poor Sara."

"Yeah, I think she nearly had a panic attack herself there for a minute."

"But it's all taken care of now, right?" Nick said anxiously. "I mean, he's ok?"

"Yeah," Warrick said, frowning, "Like I said, he's asleep."

Nick nodded, relieved. Hedidn't quite understand it, but ever since he'd seen the look in Grissom's eyes when he'd woken up from that nightmare, he just couldn't shake the worry he felt for his supervisor. That look had just… ripped into him. It had almost hurt more than Grissom's hands around his throat. But he didn't want to think about that. Catherine was talking now, telling them more about the developments in their case, and he sighed and pulled his mind back to the task at hand. Maybe he'd go visit Grissom later, see how he was doing…


An hour later, Sara had just settled down to watch an episode of some old crime show when she heard Grissom groaning. She was on her feet immediately, and pushed through the door just in time to see Grissom shoot up from the bed and stumble into his bathroom.

"Well, nice to see you're awake," she said with a smirk as she followed behind him and stood in the doorway. Then her amusement faded and she began to feel sorry for him as he started to throw up again, gasping and choking over the toilet for a few minutes even after there was nothing left in his stomach. When he was done he flushed the toilet, lurched to his feet and turned on the tap. Sara didn't have time to stop him before he plunged his head under the stream of water, and she sighed. Reaching around him, she pulled a clean towel from under sink. Then she turned off the tap and pulled him away so she could dry his hair as he leaned against the wall for support. His eyes were tightly closed against the lights, and there were furrowed lines on his forehead that spoke of his pain. She tried to be gentle, but it was difficult to dry someone's hair without hurting them when they had a hangover. He groaned, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hurts," he mumbled, and she shook her head, dropping the towel to the floor.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you went and got drunk."

"Couldn't think," he informed her in a hoarse whisper. "Besides, hindsight's 20/20." Sighing, knowing he was right, she led him stumbling back to his room. Hindsight could be a real bitch sometimes.

"I know," she said softly as he collapsed onto the bed, "You told me quite a bit about what you should have done, tonight."

He knew what that meant, and the comment elicited another groan as a dull red glow spread over his cheeks. Sara had the feeling he would have burrowed under his covers to hide from her if he hadn't been in so much pain. "What else did I tell you?" he moaned.

"A lot of stuff, Grissom, but we can talk about that later, all right?"

There was no response, and she saw that he had fallen asleep again. "Yeah, we'll talk about it for sure," she whispered to him as she tucked him in and, turning off the bathroom light, left the room. She found, however, that the show on TV no longer interested her. She didn't want to sit still; she wanted to be doing something. After all the hours she had slept earlier, and the refreshing talk with Warrick, she felt energized. For a while she simply puttered around Grissom's townhouse, cleaning up the mess that had accumulated – or so she assumed – over the few months since the robbery. When there was nothing else to do in that respect, she paced restlessly. It wasn't until fifteen minutes had passed that she decided to go for a run, and she checked in on Grissom one last time to find him still asleep before she wrote him a note, in case he should wake before she returned, and disappeared out the door. She smiled to herself as she tucked the spare key to his house into her pocket.

After going home to change into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Sara ran for an exhausting hour. When she finally got back, she was once again ready to sleep. It felt good to be tired physically instead of emotionally, her muscles burning pleasantly. At first she was torn between staying at her place so she could get a good sleep in her own bed and returning to Grissom's to make sure he was ok. In the end, though, there really wasn't any competition. She would look out for Grissom as long as he needed someone, no matter what. Maybe that was crazy in itself, but hell, she had never really been completely sane. Who in their right mind would fall in love with a guy like Grissom, anyway? He was closed off, socially inept, and couldn't seem to fully comprehend anything other than science and bugs, but she had to admit she did love him. And she enjoyed the thought of the challenge of breaking down all those walls he had built around himself.

Think about that later, she told herself with a yawn as she stretched out on Grissom's couch. You'll have plenty of time to think about that later.