A/N: Hanging my head in shame and apologizing again for the long wait. Thank you in advance to anyone who reviews this, I appreciate it a lot, especially knowing you guys are still sticking around even though I'm really bad about updating. Writer's block is really shitty.
Chapter 14: Confessions
"Are you sure? I could stay, you know. It wouldn't be a big deal."
"Yes, Sara, I'm sure," Grissom sighed as she asked the question for the third time that evening. "I'll be fine. And if you don't go now, you're going to be late for work."
Sara smiled sheepishly. She should have known it would have been too good to be true to have Grissom admit he didn't want her to go. It had taken her an hour alone of begging, threatening, cajoling and bribing to convince him to take another week off from work. And she was lucky to have that; he had almost blown his top when she suggested he start seeing Phillip Kane regularly, flat out refusing.
"It might help to talk about it, Grissom," she had pointed out, but he had shaken his head. He would talk to her, if he talked to anybody. It was then that he had awkwardly admitted he felt more comfortable discussing things with her, and she had prodded him in the ribs.
"Is that why you're having such a hard time stringing two words together?" she had teased. He had merely glared at her, and then taken her hand in his own and twined his fingers through hers. She had noticed that he liked to do that; she didn't mind, though. She liked it, too.
Now, as she stood at the door ready to leave, he kissed her gently.
"I can't believe I'm allowed to do this," he whispered softly, meeting her eyes. "For so many years, I could have… God, I'm an idiot."
"You're not an idiot," she responded, kissing him back. Then, she smiled a little. "Well, only sometimes."
He laughed, and she couldn't help but think that it was wonderful to see him like this again.
"I'll see you after work, all right?" she said, and he nodded, pulling her in for another sweet kiss before he released her. While he had said she didn't need to stay with him, Sara had insisted that she be allowed to come and see him after every shift. They would have breakfast together and talk before she went home to sleep, hopefully without interruptions this time.
"All right then, bye." She continued to linger, though, and Grissom shook his head.
"Go already," he commanded. Then his face softened, and he looked almost shy. "I'll be fine. I'll… I'll call you, if I need to… talk."
She nodded. "Ok." Steeling herself, she turned and walked down the steps to her SUV. As she put her bag in the vehicle, she glanced over her shoulder, and he waved. "Oh, God damn it," she muttered and, turning, she sprinted back to throw herself into his arms for one last tight hug and soft kiss before she finally forced herself to actually go.
As she drove off, Grissom sighed and leaned against his doorframe. His eyes closed,and acool evening breeze played over his face.He rubbed his palms together, imagining her hand in his again, realizing thathe already missed her.
By the time midnight rolled around Grissom thought he really was going crazy. He sat on his sofa, staring at his phone, wanting to call her. No, that wasn't right - not wanting to call her, needing to call her. He needed to call Sara. But he couldn't, because he was still unable to convince himself that she wasn't helping him out of pity. Besides, she was probably busy; at a scene, or at the lab studying evidence. She didn't need him calling and distracting her.
But she said, he thought. She said you could call.
That doesn't mean anything.
Grissom swallowed hard, trying to distract himself by turning on the television. None of the programs being shown could hold his attention for long, however, and he glanced at the clock every few minutes, agonizing over how slowly the hands seemed to move. It was still hours before shift would be over, and he could see Sara again. And even then he would only be able to see her for a few hours before she went back to her own place. What would he do then?
At least then it will be light, he told himself. He immediately wished he hadn't thought it, because his eyes flickered to the shadows in the corners of the room. With a bitter smile, he got up and turned on the kitchen light, along with all of the lamps in the room. Then he wandered over to his radio and turned that on as well. Standing there, he fiddled with the dial for a while. Finally, he found a station that suited his mood. Really, it was more Greg's type of music than his – on any regular day he never would have listened to it – but right now, he needed something loud, with a strong beat and a sense of wildness to it; something that he could feel. But then he punched the 'off' button in anger as he remembered that it was midnight, and he'd catch hell from his neighbours if he turned it up. He needed to turn it up for it to work; needed it to be loud. Another sigh of frustration, another few minutes of pacing, and then he started shaking. Why couldn't the God damn voices shut up? Always screaming… didn't they know he couldn't save them? Didn't they know that it was over? As a drop of sweat slowly trickled down his neck, he curled up in the corner of his sofa.
Shut up, shut up, shut up. I'm sorry, God damn it, I can't help you anymore! But still the voices persisted.
"Oh God," he moaned, "I'm going crazy. Jesus, I'm going crazy."
And then, suddenly, Sara's voice overpowered those that rang in his brain. "You're not going crazy, Grissom… And if you ever do, I'll still be right here… Promise." For the next ten minutes he sat there and cried, and when the tears finally subsided he reached over and picked up the phone.
As Sara began collecting blood evidence, she allowed her mind to stray to thoughts of Grissom. She wondered how he was doing; whether he was scared, or worried; whether he was reading, or maybe watching TV. And she told herself over and over again that he would be fine. It wasn't hard, now, to convince herself of that fact. Even though she knew that his problems weren't over she still felt confident that things could only get better.
When she had shown up at work, it seemed that the others had sensed something had changed. No one had questioned her about Grissom, though they watched her closely, and their curiosity was almost palpable. It was only Warrick who had said anything, merely asking if everything was all right. Her reply was quick, accompanied by a smile. Yes, everything was fine. Better than fine, in fact, though she hadn't added that little bit of information. She was surprised that no one else had questioned her. At the very least, she had expected Nick to say something; the look in his eyes was the most intense, and she figured that it probably had something to do with Grissom's attack on him. If things weren't personal enough before, they sure are now, she thought wryly as she continued to work, glancing over at the Texan. He was bagging a bullet casing. In the relative darkness of the room, Sara could barely make out his black eye, but she knew it was there. Considering his capacity for guilt, Sara wondered whether Grissom would ever be able to look Nick in the face again. Suddenly, as though sensing her gaze, Nick glanced up with a questioning expression. Sara just smiled, and shook her head. For a moment she thought he would just go back to his work, but instead he stood, and made his way carefully across the room towards her.
"Can I, uh, ask you something?" He crouched down beside her.
"Sure, what's up?" she said.
"Did Grissom… did he talk to you at all, last night?"
Sara didn't reply at first as she sat back on her heels and regarded him thoughtfully. "Yeah," she finally responded slowly.
"Oh. Ok."
It seemed to Sara that he wanted to ask something else, but at the last minute he changed his mind and got up, returning to his work on the other side of the room. "That's it? That's all you wanted to ask?" Sara called after him.
"Uh, yeah," Nick replied, but Sara could tell he was lying. She decided to let it go for the time being, though. Whatever his question was, she might not be able to answer it anyway. A lot had happened last night, and she wasn't willing to talk about it just yet. Nor was she sure that Grissom would appreciate her telling anyone what he had said, or anything else. Shaking her head to clear it, she turned back to her work.
It was almost a full hour later whenSara's cell phone rang, and she snapped off her gloves and checked the caller ID. An electric spark raced through her body when she saw it was Grissom, and she glanced around her at the scene. They were almost finished processing.
"Hey, Nick," she called, "Do you think you can finish up? I kind of have to take this call. I swear I'll make it up to you."
Eyeing her suspiciously, Nick nodded. "Go ahead. Besides, I'd bet money that it's Grissom."
Sara kept her face completely blank. "What makes you say that?"
"The look on your face when you saw who it was," he grinned. "Answer the damn phone before he gives up on you, will you? Or chickens out… that might happen first, knowing him."
At that Sara couldn't help but return his smile. "You got it, Texas," she called over her shoulder as she flicked open her phone and walked outside.
"Hey, Grissom, what's up?" As much as she had wanted him to, she hadn't really expected Grissom to follow up on his promise to call if he needed to talk. It was a pleasant surprise.
"I, uh, just wanted to, to see how you were doing."
"Oh, that's nice," Sara smiled to herself. Yeah, right, she thought. But if he really wanted to talk, he'd get around to it when he was ready.
"Well," Grissom's voice came again, pulling her back to the conversation at hand, "Actually, that's not true. I just, uh, wanted to…" He trailed off, and even though she couldn't see him Sara imagined him squirming uncomfortably.
"You ok?" she asked gently.
"Yeah, yeah, fine."
"So what is it, Gris?"
A long moment of silence was suddenly broken by a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Just, uh, tired of listening to the voices of people who aren't there," he finally said, the words tumbling out easier than he thought they would.
Sara pursed her lips, and leaned back against the side of the house. "Want to talk?"
From his silence she discerned he was suddenly feeling shy, and probably worrying that he was bothering her. She was proved right when she heard him swallow. "No, it's ok. You're, uh, probably busy at a scene, or something."
Answering quickly in an attempt to banish any of his doubts, Sara tried to sound light-hearted as she spoke. "Nope, not at a scene. I was actually just taking a coffee break." Unfortunately, her words didn't have the desired effect of convincing him she was free.
"You're on a break? Damn. I'm sorry, I didn't realize… I better go."
"Gris," Sara burst out, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time, "it's fine. Just talk to me, will you?"
"Oh." His voice had an apologetic tone to it, and she suddenly felt bad for him.
"Hey, it's ok, Grissom, I swear. Talk to me."
"I, uh… I just…" he froze.
Come on, Grissom, Sara thought, biting her lip. If he couldn't do this now, how would he be able to talk to her face to face? Maybe last night was just… an overload, of sorts. Maybe it'll be weeks before it gets bad enough for him to actually talk to you again. This unhappy line of thought was banished, however, asGrissom managed to conquer his worries and fears for a second.
"It's so different, Sara, being the victim instead of the investigator… I mean, all those people, the ones we investigate… there's so many of them. Do they all live like this? Are they scared all the time? I… remember last night? You asked me what I was thinking, and I said 'nothing.' I lied. I was thinking about how I was an adult who's scared of the shadows. I'm scared of being alone, yet I'm scared of being with people too. What if they realized that something was really wrong with me? All those people out there… do they feel like this? Do they wake up screaming every night? How many of them have thought about suicide?" At his last, desperate question Grissom's mouth snapped shut. Crap. He hadn't meant to say that. Maybe she wasn't listening.
But she was, and his words made her knees go weak. "Grissom… I… you didn't… tell me you didn't."
Now, Grissom thought, would be a good time to explain yourself, Gil. "I… Sara... it was only once," he stumbled over the words. "A couple of months ago. You guys were all really busy, nobody had come to see me in two days, and I had just had a really bad nightmare… I was hearing voices again. Suddenly I just… I thought 'this is never going to end, until you're dead,' and I…"
"Oh, God, Gris," she said painfully.
Trying to soothe her, he continued breathlessly. "I didn't try… anything. I swear. I realized what I was thinking and that… that scared me more than anything. I… I thought of you, and the way you looked when you came to the crime scene." He swallowed hard. "You were crying. I remember… I wanted to tell you that I was ok, that it would be ok, but I couldn't. And then I thought, 'why the hell are you considering this, anyway? Hell, you haven't gone through half of what some of the people you investigate have gone through. Don't be a wimp.'"
"You should have called me, the minute you started thinking that way," she told him fiercely as she wiped at the tears in her eyes. "Why didn't you call me? I would have come in an instant."
"I know you would have, Sara, but I just… couldn't," he whispered, his voice strained.
Standing on the other side of the door, Nick could only imagine what they were talking about. Sara's side of the conversation hadn't been very revealing, but by the sound of her voice it was something that terrified her.
"You should have called me, the minute you started thinking that way," he heard her say, and he crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to stop the chill that penetrated his body. Grissom wouldn't try to commit suicide. Would he? Unable to stop the question from circulating in his brain over and over again, Nick walked away from the door and began to pack up his kit. He didn't want to hear anymore; it was too nerve-wracking, trying to fill in the blanks and coming up with highly worrisome answers.
As Nick turned onto the main road out of the neighbourhood, he glanced over at Sara. She and Grissom had talked for a good half an hour after he had finished, and Nick guessed that the conversation hadn't been very uplifting for Sara seemed a bit subdued. It wasn't until fifteen minutes of painful silence had passed that the Texan finally spoke up, albeit hesitantly.
"Grissom ok?" he asked.
"He's fine," came the soft response. But Nick guessed there was probably more to it than that. Taking into account the fact that she hadn't sounded angry at his question, he pushed ahead.
"I uh, kind of overhead you guys… it didn't sound very good."
At that Sara's gaze snapped around to stare at him, and he flicked his own eyes back to the road so he wouldn't have to look at her. "I didn't mean to," he muttered. Then, when she still didn't speak, he glanced at her desperately. "It sounded like he was thinking about trying to… you know." He didn't want to say it.
Sara sighed, knowing exactly what he was thinking despite his inability to verbalize it. "I don't really feel comfortable talking about this with you, Nick. If Grissom wants to talk to you, he will."
"I just…"
"But I will say he's fine, Nick," she continued, in a softer tone. "Really. And…" she hesitated for a moment, "It was only once. Some time ago. Thinking about it scared him more than anything."
"Ok," Nick murmured, looking upset that the thought of suicide had actually crossed Grissom's mind but relieved at the same time, because it was over.
If Grissom ever finds out I told him that, I can just say we got our wires crossed and I thought Nick was talking about something else, Sara thought. While she felt slightly guilty about breaking Grissom's confidence, she couldn't help but feel that Nick deserved to know. He practically worshipped their supervisor, though he tended to hide it well, and she knew if he had been forced to consider something like that for the rest of the night he would have been extremely anxious and difficult to be around. Plus, she trusted him to understand the sensitive nature of what she had told him. Way to go, Sara, she thought to herself, you sound like a bloody federal officer or something.
It wasn't until they were almost back at the lab that Nick spoke again. "Hey, Sara, do you think I could, uh, swing by Grissom's place after work and, uh, see how he's doing?"
Why are you asking me, Nick? she thought, but out loud she said, "Sure, I guess. Um, I can phone him if you want; to let him know that you're coming. I'm sure you'll be more than welcome to join us for breakfast." As much as she didn't want Nick intruding on her time with Grissom, she thought maybe it would be best for both Grissom and Nick to talk before the tension between them became unbearable. She didn't want them to become uncomfortable with each other over something that could be resolved so easily. You won't be able to kiss him, if Nick's there, she thought, and scowled to herself. Why couldn't Nick just come over some other time? Suddenly, she realized he was speaking, and she forced herself to listen.
"If you guys are having breakfast, I don't want to interrupt," he was saying.
Take the opening, Sara. But she just shook her head. "No, it's fine. You guys should probably talk, anyway."
