Can you believe this is chapter eight already? My stories always end up longer than planned, I had originally thought to have this done in five chapters. I say that a lot though: A big thanks to all my reviewers, this is the first really heavy angst story I've done so far, and I'm still not sure what direction this will turn in yet. Give me some feedback!
Chapter Eight: Breaking the Ice
Sara came into the room, watching Grissom with a frown. She had not been happy about the emergency page she had received for the meeting. "Griss," she asked, interrupting his conversation with Catherine.
She waited until he was looking at her, "What is this?" she asked. "We are closer than ever to catching this guy. Can't this wait?"
Grissom shook his head, "If it could Sara, then I wouldn't be calling it right now. Just sit down, it won't take very long."
There was something in his tone, something Sara couldn't quite pick out. She didn't pay too much attention to it though, after all, he was probably as stressed about finding the killer as she was. Maybe he had something new, but why call a meeting for it? Why not just pass out the info to those who were working on the case?
Shaking her head, she took a seat in the back of the room, folding her hands on top the table. Warrick and Nick still needed to come before Grissom would start. He always waited for everyone to be here. So it was surprise when Warrick came in, that Grissom mentioned for him to shut the door. Warrick hesitated, but did so after a moment, moving to take a seat next to Sara.
She gave him a questioning look; Warrick shrugged in response, looking back up towards the front. With a sigh Grissom turned towards them, his gaze running past each and everyone one with a frown. Maybe now he realized that Nick wasn't here.
"I know we're all busy," Grissom started, "this case has drug us through a lot. Seeing all of you now, I realize we all could use a break, get some rest." He waved that notion away, as if trying to grasp something in the air. "That's not why we are here though. First things first, whatever is said behind closed doors, is where it stays. I've called you three together because I felt you should all know. Word will get around on its on, but don't encourage them. This isn't exactly easy to say, so I'll come right out and say it. Greg is in the ICU at Desert Springs Hospital."
Sara was stunned, she had expected several things. She had expected and update about the case at first, but when Nick didn't show, she wondered if something had happened to him, if he had been suspended for some reason, or maybe he had reached his maximum limit for overtime, and the rest were getting close. Sara, herself, could not remember how many hours she had worked so far. But out of everything, she wasn't expecting this.
The silence wasn't long lived.
"What do you mean in the ICU?" Catherine asked, her voice raising a notch, as one does when worry is apparent. "He wasn't in an accident was he? I told him those taxi's were dangerous, he should have just called me like I told him to."
Sara glanced down at her hands, then over to Warrick. He was staring straight ahead, mouth hanging open slightly. Sara was sure she looked quite the same. Her thoughts drifted as she remembered not seeing the lab tech tonight, did he even make it to work? How bad off was he?
Grissom cleared his throat, holding a hand out to stop Catherine's ranting. "There hasn't been an accident." He told them quietly. "Greg's sick," he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. "He's been sick for quite some time now."
Sara had never seen Grissom look so old before. Like a parent grieving for a lost child. He seemed as though he was crying, but she couldn't tell, being too far back in the room. A hand on her shoulder made her realize that she was starting to cry too. Hastily she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, nodding to Warrick as he squeezed her shoulder, but unable to look at him.
"Sick?" Catherine asked. She seemed to be the only one with a voice at the moment. "Like flu sick, or cancer sick?"
"Neither," was all the reply Grissom gave them.
Sara shook her head; this was all too unreal. "What then?"
"Greg's is experience liver failure. A complication derived from long ago, in his childhood," It was apparent that Grissom wasn't going to explain any further than just facts.
"But they have treatment for that," Catherine said quickly. "Several methods, depending on how far he is. He'll get better right? When will he be able to come back?"
Grissom shook his head, taking a seat next to her. "There's a good chance that he won't be."
"What?" Warrick asked, speaking for the first time. "Not come back to work, or not coming back at all?"
The silence this time was perhaps the longest, if not by minutes, then by the anxiety felt in the room as everyone waited the answer, some unsure if they wanted to hear it at all.
"At all," Grissom answered quietly. "Greg needs a full liver transplant. I've done all I can to help him. All we need now is time, and hope, prayers. Anything positive will help."
"How much time?" Catherine asked.
"Greg's doctor gave me a call, explained what was going on. By the looks of things, he has one, maybe two…" Grissom stopped there, unable to finish.
"One or two what?" Warrick asked, "Months? Years?"
"Days," Grissom breathed.
Sara shook her head, scooting her chair back so she could lean against the table. "No, uh uh, there is no way this is possible. This is some sort of sick joke, or nightmare that I'm going to wake up from really soon. There is no way that someone can…can, die, right in front of our eyes, and no one notices? I mean, we work in a Crime Lab; we investigate death enough that we should be able to see it happening right? We are able to find the smallest pieces of evidence, how could we miss something as big as this?"
Grissom looked up at her, a sad smile on his lips. One of regret. "Some things aren't found, because they want to stay hidden."
"But why hide it?" Warrick asked, "I mean, I don't know the guy all that well, but we're still friends. We see each other nearly every day, I would have helped out."
The others agreed, nodding and murmuring quietly.
"Because he was afraid. People are afraid of being judged, I don't think Greg meant to keep it from all of you for this long. I assume time just caught up with sooner then he thought it would. Nick is over with him now; he was the one who brought him in. Greg's doctor told me that if Greg accepts treatment, then he could last up to a week. At the moment, Nick is in talking with him, trying to convince him to do so."
"What can we do?" Sara asked suddenly.
"At this point, just pray. If he receives a transplant in time, money will be the largest issue. Money figures are in the several hundreds of thousands. If he makes it though, the road ahead will be a long one. He'll need all the support he can get."
It was quiet again, for a long time. The ticking of the clock was steady; the silent breaths they took filled the room. Grissom finally stood, the scraping of the chair against the tile a crude difference in comparison to the silence. "Shift is over soon enough, I would advise to cut back on the overtime, and get there while you can. There is no guarantee on anything at the moment. The case can wait till tomorrow."
Grissom left, just like that, leaving the others. He stopped by the door, one hand resting on the handle. "Remember, what is said behind closed doors, stays behind closed doors."
TBC
