Chapter 22

Inching open Sara's hospital room door, Catherine hoped beyond reason to see Grissom sitting on the edge of the bed holding Sara's hand. From her years of first hand experience, she knew life is full of disappointments. Today would be no different.

As she stepped into Sara's room, her shoulders sank from the weight of the burden but she forced a sunny tone. "I'm back." Maintaining an outward appearance of happiness while dying on the inside was a skill she had used many times over the years and she wore the saccharine smile well.

"Look I'm still resting," Sara said with a dash of impatience. Still waiting.

Reaching into the paper sack she was holding, Catherine produced a dark chocolate Godiva bar. "Your reward for good behavior." She tossed it on the bed knowing there wasn't enough sugar in the candy to coat what she had to say.

"Thanks." Promptly Sara unwrapped the bar and took a bite. "I'm starving. When they brought lunch earlier there was a big piece of ham touching everything. I couldn't bring myself to eat any of it."

Although she was certain Sara would be losing her appetite, Catherine replied, "I'll make sure the nurse knows you're a vegetarian."

"Thanks." She continued to chomp on the chocolate bar.

So far it was going well, Sara wasn't asking about Grissom and if she didn't ask, Catherine wouldn't have to tell.

After swallowing a big bite of creamy chocolate, Sara remarked, "I can't believe it's taking Grissom so long at the station. Thank god things move faster in Vegas. Knowing him, he must be so frustrated."

Catherine froze. So much for don't ask, don't tell. If only she hadn't made Grissom sound so damn heroic when she related the details of the story. Her intentions were to set him up for a warm reception, not build Sara up for a fall. After seeing Grissom clutching Sara's hand and worrying about her, she never considered he would pull back rather than move forward. Silently she cursed herself. Nice job, Willows. If you can't maintain a stable relationship yourself why did you think you were remotely qualified to bring other people together?

Perplexed by her co-worker's uncharacteristic silence, Sara set her half-eaten candy bar on the bedside table and cautiously inquired, "Is there something you're not telling me? Is Grissom okay? Did something happen to him?"

Seeing her worry about him only made the situation more difficult. "He's fine, Sara." Not that she believed her assessment.

Glancing around the room Catherine wished someone else was here to share the load. Not that she was used to sharing her burdens with anyone. But for once it would be nice. "Sara…" Pulling up a chair she plopped down and opted for the direct approach. "He's not coming to see you."

The shock caused Sara's words to wedge in her throat.

"I know this is hard to hear." Catherine gulped. It was killing her to say it. "He's on his way back to Vegas."

After inhaling a sharp breath, Sara's words dislodged. "Maybe you didn't hear the message right."

Denial was a powerful thing and Catherine watched Sara succumb to it. "I'm positive. He just told me."

Glancing over at the bedside table, Sara countered, "But you left your cell phone in the room."

Catherine's mouth opened but she didn't have the heart to say how she found out. Turns out she didn't have to.

"He was here? Now? When you left my room?" The truth overwhelmed her. "He …he was right out there but he didn't come to see me."

Even though it wasn't her place, Catherine apologized. "I'm so sorry, Sara."

Frantic for a good explanation she said, "What did he say?!"

"He said…" Running her fingers through her hair she sighed. "Tell her I'm working the Hatcher case and I'm glad she's feeling better."

"Feeling better?" Gripped with disappointment, Sara asked, "That's odd considering I feel worse than I did this morning. I'm not sure I understand how he thought I'd be feeling better after finding out he was two seconds away from me and couldn't even bother to check on me. Hell…if he couldn't look at me why couldn't he call or even write a note. I can't believe he asked you to speak for him! To say the words he couldn't tell me himself!"

"I…I wish I knew what to say." Catherine sank lower in her chair.

Swallowing hard, she remarked in a voice as hurt as her heart, "I don't understand."

Catherine turned her eyes to the ceiling. "I don't know about you but I'm ready to accept that Grissom is a puzzle that can't be solved. He has issues. It's not that he doesn't care about you. He's very confused and has all these unanswered questions in his head. I think if he spoke with you he could solve some of them but he can't get past the fear."

"Are you making excuses for him?"

"No. I'm not defending his actions. This was a crappy thing to do to you. Hell, it was a crappy thing to do to me!"

Deflated, Sara crashed against the bedding. "I thought I couldn't possibly feel more stupid than I did this morning when you told me about the real Mike. How could I let myself think for one minute that Grissom would…"

"It's not you, Sara." Catherine vehemently shook her head. "I was with him from the moment he believed you might be in danger, it was killing him. Last night when I spoke to him on the phone from your room he was an emotional wreck. I don't know if he would have bounced back if you didn't make it. When I showed up this morning he was asleep clutching your hand." Not sure what to make of her observations, she summed up her thoughts by saying, "Apparently, when you're unconscious he has no problem expressing his feelings. He just can't do it when you're awake."

Anger building, Sara snapped, "So are you saying that if I had lapsed into a coma we would have lived happily ever after? That's hardly a healthy relationship. Not that this one is much better."

Frustration building, Catherine commiserated. "Look, I can only imagine how frustrating this is for you because it's really pissing me off."

"Frustrated?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice. "Why? Because this experience made me feel so much closer to him while it apparently made him want to run without looking back?"

Folding her arms tightly she let her exasperation show. "My last relationship…I found my boyfriend banging a cocktail waitress on his desk when I showed up for a date." Rolling her eyes, she groaned. "Maybe all men are puzzles not worth solving."

"So what does Grissom think? We won't mention any of this and everything will be status quo? I'll show up for shift and we'll pretend none of this ever happened. I can't do that. I can't see him and pretend I don't know how he feels. It was bad enough when I didn't know how he felt." Dropping her head in her hands, she tried to hide the rawness burning in her eyes. "But now…when I feel so strongly. I can't do it anymore."

Steadying herself with a cleansing breath, Catherine dished out the cold hard truth. "A successful business woman once told me, there are a lot of things you can give a man…your body, your time and even your heart. But the one thing you can never, ever let go of is your power." Advice Catherine always respected. Advice she drew upon that night she walked out of Chris' office.

Sniffling, Sara asked, "What kind of business was this woman running?"

"Suffice it to say she ran a lucrative domain." Continuing her empowerment speech, Catherine advised, "Sara, you've given more than enough of yourself. It's time. Take back your power. Stop letting him dominate the situation. Stop worrying about hurting him and do what you need to do to help yourself. Even if he calls tonight, even if you go back to Vegas tomorrow and he throws you a breadcrumb of hope…don't settle. Don't stop thinking of yourself. Stand your ground, no matter what he says, no matter how he tries to manipulate you, unless he says the words you need to hear…don't give an inch." Giving a supportive smile, she said, "He may be the boss at work but you are in charge of your life."

Reaching for a tissue, Sara blew her nose. "Would you grab my daytimer from my suitcase."

"Sure."

Clearing her throat, Sara asked. "Can I use your cell? Mine is still broken."

"Go ahead." She handed her the book. "I should leave."

"No." Looking for courage Sara said, "I'd like you to stay."

"Okay." Taking a seat she watched Sara open her daytimer and punch in a series of numbers.

Clutching the phone, Sara steadied her breathing. Unlike before she had no urge to disconnect the call. When the voicemail greeting ended, Sara left her message. "David. It's Sara Sidle getting back to you. I've made my decision. I'll take the job. I'm looking forward to moving back to San Francisco. I'll be back in Vegas tomorrow and I'll call you then to go over the details. Thanks."

Catherine wasn't expecting that particular decision. "Sara…I'm confused."

"I had that in the works already after the last Grissom disappointment. That's why I came to Tahoe. To get away and clear my head so I could make a decision." Handing the phone to Catherine she explained, "Most likely I would have chickened out but now…it's the solution to my problem. I won't have to hide my feelings in San Francisco because he won't be there to see."

Like a child who just found out her parents are getting divorced, Catherine wanted to keep the family together. "Are you sure about this? Nick and Warrick are going to be so upset. Couldn't you switch shifts or…"

"Your speech convinced me. It's the right decision."

"Great, now it's my fault! The guys are going to kill me." Standing up, she put her cell phone in her pocket. "I'm going to get some of that mountain air."

"Catherine…you're not going to call Grissom and tell him, are you?"

"No." She shook her head. "I'm already traumatized enough from telling you what he said. There's no way I'm telling him you're leaving. I'm through being the messenger. He has to hear it directly from the source."

"Thanks."

After walking out of Sara's room, Catherine hurried out of the building.

Once outside she crossed the street and headed to the neighborhood park. When she took a seat on a stone bench she grabbed her cell phone.

After punching in Warrick's speed dial code, she checked her watch and realized he was probably sleeping.

"Hello."

"I woke you, didn't I?" Rolling her eyes she said, "You're coming off a double too. I'm sorry."

"Hey. Don't sweat it."

Sighing, she groveled, "I needed someone to talk to, are you up for conversation? I'll warn you, it's not a good one."

"I'm all ears."

Relieved she could lighten her load, she smiled. "Grissom and Brass are on the way home. Sara and I are still here."

"Why are you with Sara and not Grissom?"

Exasperated, a tension-fueled chuckle spilled out. "Isn't that the question of the hour! He left Tahoe without ever talking to her."

"What? You're not serious."

"He made me tell her he wasn't coming to see her without even giving me a good reason. Not that there could be one good enough." Shaking her head her voice cracked. "The look on her face…I'm so angry with him right now but at the same time I could tell it was killing him to leave and I feel sorry for him. I feel sorry for both of them."

"Abandoning Sara in the hospital isn't cool. It kills me to say this because you know how I feel about Grissom and what he's done for me but Catherine…I'm having a hard time accepting he could walk out on her without a word."

She understood where he was coming from. "Your dad?" Warrick's father, or donor, as he referred to him was never in his life.

"Yeah. A real man doesn't sneak away and make someone else deliver the bad news to the one he left behind. What would make him do that to Sara when she's at her lowest? Is he pissed because she went to Tahoe with Mike in the first place? Maybe it didn't sink in until after she was out of danger and now he's angry."

"I don't know! But if that was the case then why not tell her and give her a chance to explain." Lowering her gaze to the ground, she said, "It doesn't make sense. There has to be something else going on with him."

From his window seat on the 737, Grissom watched Lake Tahoe fade into the distance. By now Sara would know he was gone and he shuddered to think of her reaction to his cowardly move.

"Hey." Brass nudged Grissom with his elbow. "The flight attendant is asking if you want a drink."

Sliding the window cover down to block the view he wearily replied, "Just some water please."

Holding a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels, Brass debated out loud. "Hmmm…am I on the clock or off the clock?"

"Planes don't have clocks." Grissom grumbled as unfastened his seat belt. "They don't want passengers constantly reminded of the time they're losing getting from point A to point B." A concept he was painfully aware of having wasted plenty of his forty eight years excelling professionally while getting nowhere personally.

Content with the irrelevance of Grissom's answer, Brass twisted open the bottle and poured its contents over the cup of ice the flight attendant had left. Raising his cup he toasted, "Here's to finding a skull fracture that perfectly compliments our blood spatter so we can lock up Mikey with some new friends who will be thrilled to show an ex-cop a really good time."

Offended by the remark, Grissom snipped, "Jim, you know I would never make evidence fit a theory. I'm a Scientist; my objectivity is paramount to what I do. If I lose my objectivity then I lose myself."

"Yeah I know." Polishing off his drink, Brass wiped his lips. "Your dedication to objectivity has pissed me off on more than one occasion. Almost pisses me off as much as your smugness when you point out my inconsistencies."

Not amused, Grissom rolled his eyes before checking his watch.

Not happy that Grissom left Sara twisting in the wind back in Tahoe, Brass decided he had a point to make. Curling his whiskey tinged lips into a smirk, he said, "Remember when you asked me to breech protocol and pull Mike's file for you? Out of curiosity, where was your objectivity then? Taking five in the break room? Just because Mike turned out to be a creep doesn't change your original motivation either. Face it, you're human like the rest of us which means you're flawed."

Vexed by the unexpected criticism, Grissom remained silent.

"What did you say? Lose your objectivity then you've lost yourself?" Reclining his seat Brass made his final remarks on the matter. "I guess you are lost, which at least explains why you're on this flight to Vegas instead of back in Tahoe talking to Sara. This thing with her…whatever it is…it's FUBAR now." Closing his eyes for a power nap, he sighed. "I'm disappointed in you, Gil. What kind of a guy leaves a vulnerable woman without even saying goodbye?"

Sitting back, Grissom closed his eyes and in silence answered Jim's question…my father. Grissom knew first hand when the going gets tough sometimes loved ones choose to get going rather than stay and deal with the drama. It was his father's choice many years ago.

When Grissom's mother went deaf she couldn't handle the loss. Mourning for her old life, she became reclusive, leaving her husband confused. Convinced her husband no longer loved her because of her deficiency; she shut him out before ever giving him a chance to prove he could deal.

Unable to cope with his wife's actions, Grissom's father became increasingly frustrated. Frustration soon gave way to anger and when he finally had reached his limit, he walked away.

Separation and divorce are never easy on children and more often than not children are eyewitnesses to the pain and suffering. On the sidelines they shield their eyes so they won't see the hatred. They cover their ears so they won't hear the horrific words or the smashing of glass. In corners and in rooms they hide, waiting for the battle's end, waiting for the silence to return. They look around the house that used to be a home and wish they had be warned because if they had known, they wouldn't have allowed themselves to grow attached.

Separation and divorce are never easy on a child but in the Grissom household it was torture…daily torture.

In the Grissom household, where fighting spouses suddenly spoke different languages, the child wasn't expected to be a silent witness to the trauma…he was expected to be the translator.

"Gil, tell your mother that I'm done! Through! This is no way to live!"

Turning to his mother, he signed the words with shaky little fingers while trying not to look in her eyes.

Then he waited for her reply and after she gave it he did what was expected…he told his father.

In a six year old's innocent voice Gil delivered the harsh reply. "She said…go…you don't want to be here…you don't want me anymore…um…her anymore…she said, get out!"

"Fine! You tell her I'm leaving and I'm not coming back!"

As the translator, Gil Grissom delivered the message. As a boy, he cried.

In the six months between his parents' first skirmish and their final battle, young Gil couldn't shield his ears because he had to hear his father's words. He couldn't shield his eyes because he had to see his mother's hands. He couldn't hide in a corner because he had to stand in the middle. The painful words, the bitter looks, the heartbreak…these weren't things he watched. Being in the middle, being the voice, he lived it.

The day his father walked out and the fighting finally ended young Gil Grissom was relieved. His job was done. Now he could retreat into his own world and never have to feel those horrible things again.

Sitting on a plane moving further and further away from his heart's desire Grissom wondered, who am I? Am I my father's son, abandoning Sara in her hour of need? Or am I my mother's son, pushing Sara away before she ever had a chance to prove she would stay? Or am I the confused little boy waiting for someone to reassure me that two people in love don't always end up destroying each other?