A.N. It's a bit longer than the rest, but yes, I have finished. Amazing, isn't it? Again, I'd like to thank you all for the positive reviews and all of your criticism. I hope it was all well worth the read, and that it ends the way you all envisioned it.
Cause and Effect: Epilogue
Las Vegas, 2005
"The Doc said he should be fine. The bullet didn't penetrate any major arteries."
"He looks pale. Should he look that pale?"
"You're making me antsy, Greg. If you're going to jump around like that, do it outside".
Grissom lids felt impossibly heavy as he sluggishly became aware of the diversity of voices around him, forcing themselves to become known in his consciousness. He felt something pinning his arm, and struggled to twitch his fingers, annoyed when he realised the strength to make the simple movement eluded him.
He focused on the lull of voices, working with difficulty to open his eyes. Brightness momentarily assaulted his senses, and he realised with a moment of confusion he was in the stark whiteness of a hospital room, and a glance down at his hand revealed a slender needle injected in his arm, attached to a long, winding drip.
Why am I in the hospital?Turpin. My office. Sara.
A gun.
Right, he thought unhappily. A gun.
"I was under the impression people were supposed to be quiet in hospitals".
Three faces whipped around to glance at him in surprise, and Catherine immediately lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him.
"Hey!" he said, taken aback by the sudden act of affection, and hissing in pain when she brushed against his wounded side.
Catherine retreated again, expression apologetic as she realised she had caused him pain. "Sorry, Gil. I didn't think about that".
"I noticed", he retorted, but he was oddly touched by her concern and there was no malice in his words.
His gaze took in the other members of the room, an odd assortment of Jim and Greg. The latter looked uncomfortable, but whether it was the setting, or the company, Grissom wasn't sure, and Brass looked grim but pleased to see him alive and well.
"Gil. You gave us quite the scare there".
Greg nodded his agreement. "Yeah, boss; getting shot and all. How's the morphine?"
"Doing its job", Grissom noted dryly. He glanced around, eyes suddenly wide with concern. "Sara. Is she—?"
"She's fine", Catherine assured him quickly. "She gave Turpin quite a beating. He was knocked out right after he shot you".
Greg smirked. "Yeah. She took him out real good".
Grissom felt a weak smile pull at his lips, and didn't allow himself to question her absence. "What happened?"
Catherine sat in the chair beside him, unconsciously straightening the creases in his bedcovers. If the others noticed her sudden maternal concern, they didn't say anything, keeping their smirks carefully hidden.
"Well, by the time you got into a struggle, half the lab knew something was up. We knew Turpin was a suspect, and Detective Vartann and I went out to arrest him, but he was missing from the university."
"Sanders here decided to play hero and run into your office", Brass put in, cocking his thumb derisively at Greg. "He and Sara checked you out and called 911. Turpin was out cold by then."
"He's fine now", Catherine noted. "He only had a mild concussion. He's finding himself nice and settled in the Nevada State Penitentiary. Oh, and get this. He's pleading insanity".
Grissom shifted grimly, moving up into a sitting position against the stiff hospital pillows. "Somehow I think that might be a good idea".
They went silent as they all digested this, and Brass finally cleared his throat. "Well, now that I know you're all fine and dandy, I should get back out there. There's a pile of paperwork waiting on my desk. Enjoy the break while you can, Gil".
"Thanks, Jim".
Brass waved him off, striding out into the corridor with his typical wide saunter. Greg hesitated, noticing Catherine's pointed look, and muttered something about heading back to the lab before following in his wake.
Grissom glanced at Catherine expectantly, noting the palpable tension lining her usually flawless face. It made her look older, and he swallowed, throat strangely dry. "So, how long have I been out, anyway?"
She shrugged, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "About a day. You're fine. The bullet missed your lung by about an inch. They said you could be discharged as early as tomorrow, but they advised you not to return to work for a while. I told them that might be hard to explain to you".
Grissom gave her a wry look. "I suppose I technically wasn't back yet anyway".
Catherine smiled lightly. "True."
She hesitated, playing at the fraying edges of his blanket. "We've all been really worried about you, Gil".
"The doctor told you I was fine".
She shrugged, looking down. "People are irrational when someone they care about his hurt".
She watched him as he mutely accepted this statement. "Like say, Sara, for example", she added slowly. "The girl's been a working coffee-junkie for the last twenty-four hours. She hasn't even left the lab".
Grissom looked away, studying the mounted TV on the opposite wall. "That's hardly unusual behaviour for her, Cath".
Catherine scoffed. "Yeah, well trust me, you haven't seen her. She's really worried about you".
"So worried she hasn't even left work", he muttered, unable to help the petulance from creeping into his voice. He closed his eyes. He'd blame the morphine.
Catherine sighed. "Her way of coping is to work, Gil. We all deal with things differently. Work is safe to her. Right now, she needs that."
He shifted, feeling tiredness overtake him. "Yeah".
Catherine noticed his heavy lids, and immediately rose to her feet. "Okay. Well, I'm going to let you get some rest. If the doctors say its okay, I'll come and get you tomorrow".
Grissom nodded in gratitude, already closing his eyes. "Thanks, Cath".
She watched him for a moment longer, finally allowing the relief to wash over her. "Sure", she murmured, watching as his breathing became slow and rhythmic in an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability. "Anytime".
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When Grissom woke again, he was alone in the room. No, he realised slowly, as he became aware of a dim shadowy presence hovering silently in the corner, not completely alone.
For a moment, he wondered if it was perhaps Sara, but the figure was too tall. As his eyes focused, the figure made himself more known, stepping into the dim light filtering in from the windows, coming to a halt mere inches from the foot of Grissom's bed.
"Hello, Gil", the voice said quietly, with a monotonous vacancy Grissom found disconcerting.
Gil swallowed, licking his lips, struggling to overcome the dryness in his throat as he eyed the man with unhidden suspicion. "What are you doing here?"
Alex shrugged, examining the wall above Grissom's headboard with an unusual amount of fascination, clasping his hands casually in front of him.
"I heard about what happened on the news. It wasn't something I could just pass up".
Grissom rolled his eyes, ignoring the rasp in his throat as he spoke. "So you came to gloat, you mean?" he guessed irritably. "Save it, Alex. You're innocent, and the lab proved that. Just get on with your life".
"I'm wondering", Alex observed slowly, striding to the side of Grissom's bed, resting his hands idly on the back of the hard plastic chair, "if you're taking your own advice, Gil?"
Grissom closed his eyes, wondering if he could block the pompous man's voice out. "I don't know what you mean".
Alex scoffed. "Of course you do. I saw you at the police department. It's ten years later, and you still haven't moved forward. You're stuck in the same cowardly rut as before, and Sara's still clinging on by a thread."
"You don't know anything about us, Alex", he said quietly. "So don't pretend to".
Alex shrugged, unperturbed. "I know enough. I know, despite what I said to the contrary, that Sara wants more from you, more than you're prepared to give her. She's a beautiful, intelligent woman, Gil. Why wouldn't you risk everything for that?"
"That's the difference between us", Grissom muttered. "I'm not prepared to risk my job over every woman I meet."
Alex chuckled. "I think you envy me, a little. I have a self-assurance you have never had. I have the elucidation to realise that a career is just a career. It's not what we were put on this earth for. Your job doesn't keep you warm at night, Gil. It doesn't love you". He shrugged. "I'm willing to give into the pleasures of the flesh, and that bothers you, doesn't it? That you can't give yourself that liberation. With Sara… with any other woman".
"You weren't saying that when you were so worried about your reputation", Grissom said deprecatingly.
Alex smirked. "No, but that's another matter entirely. If I loved her
I wouldn't even question it. I wouldn't even think about the consequences."
Grissom allowed his gaze to drift up to Alex's, full of mingled pity and distaste for a man who had such potential, and who let his lack of integrity ruin him. "You're not capable of love".
Alex smiled, a thin, humourless gesture that didn't quite reach the dullness in his eyes. "Maybe not. Maybe we're alike, after all".
Without waiting to see if Grissom would have a response to that, he backed out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
Grissom stared dully at the shards of light spilling in from the corridor, wondering if, perhaps, Alex was right after all.
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"So. Grissom's going home today".
Sara barely glanced up as Nick stared at her across the breakroom, intent on filling in the rest of her evaluation report. "Yeah. I've heard".
The Texan observed her silently, turning his coffee mug idly in his fingers. His back brushed the counter, and his eyes drifted out into the lab corridor, where employees moved by swiftly. It was almost as if they had no memory of what had happened two days ago. Everything had returned to its regular pace.
As he took in Sara again, hunched over the table, intently focused on her work, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
No one was really sure exactly what had happened in that room, until the gunshots erupted. As far as he knew, Grissom had said little, and Sara was even less forthcoming on the subject. She had only gone home long enough for a change of clothes and a shower, and he doubted she had eaten anything of substance besides the litres of coffee she had consumed religiously in the last forty-eight hours.
She was like his sister, and he knew he had abandoned her the last year or so, with the promotion debacle, and then the split in the shifts. He knew she had a strong friendship with Greg, but the easy camaraderie between the two of them had practically dissipated and he mourned its loss.
He doubted that she would appreciate his prompting. But he had to show his concern somehow, and if this was the way he did it, then that was fine with him.
"Are you going to go see him?"
Sara's head lifted at the bluntness of his statement, and he congratulated himself on not wavering under her murderous glare.
"Is that any of your business?"
Nick rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. Sometimes he wondered if she thought the entire lab was blind. "Sara, you've been worried about him for two days straight, and you haven't slept in all that time, either. He'll be nearly home by now. I'm sure he's wanted to see if you're okay, too".
"Well, I'm sure Catherine told him that I'm fine".
Nick scowled, striding over and sliding into a chair opposite her. He brusquely extracted the files from in front of her, forcing her to meet his gaze as he slid them out of her reach across the table.
"Nick, I don't have time for this", she snapped, dropping her pen on the table.
"Apparently, you don't have time for a lot of things", he retorted, folding his hands calmly on the table. "What's up with you, Sara?"
"Nothing", she said irritably, reaching for the files.
He pulled them further away and she shot him a venomous look.
"Forget it", he said. "Not until you tell me why you're not going to see Grissom".
"Because I don't WANT to!" she yelled unexpectedly.
Nick held her gaze, remaining effortlessly patient in the face of her sudden outburst. "Now why do I think that's not true?"
Sara closed her eyes. "Look, just leave it, okay? He doesn't want to see me and I'm doing both of us a favour by staying away".
Nick stared at her. "Sara, he wants to see you", he said quietly, surprised she would think otherwise. "He asked about you. Catherine told me".
"Yeah, right", she muttered, looking away.
"I'm not kidding around", he insisted. "Look, I don't know what went down in his office that day, but I know he got shot trying to protect you. We all know you care about him. I don't know what's been going on the last few days, with this Townsend case and all, but I'm guessing it has something to do with that. I know he can be pretty unreadable at times, but you can't doubt he cares about you too".
Sara swallowed, looking down. "There are a lot of things you don't understand".
He shrugged. "Okay, so? In the end, what does it all matter? You care, he cares, that's all there needs to be, right? The least you can do is go and talk to the guy, let him know he did the right thing."
She studied something on the table, but he saw something subtle change in her face, and knew he had succeeded.
"I'll let Warrick know you took off early", he said gently, closing the files for her with a swift finality. "I don't think he's gonna mind since he's been trying to get you to do that in the last two days".
A weak smile tugged at her features. "Thanks, Nicky. Really".
He shrugged. "Yeah, well. I figured it was about time one of us said something".
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Catherine was surprisingly domestic when she wanted to be, and she went about anxiously cleaning his living room for a while before Grissom told her to stop.
His wound wasn't severe enough to require a wheelchair, and he had steadfastly refused the hindrance of crutches. He had minor difficulty walking, but with Catherine's assistance he got from her car to his townhouse with little drama.
He was actually relieved to be back in the anonymity of his own home, and inwardly pleaded for Catherine to leave. He was settled on his sofa, several forensic journals and the TV remote scattered strategically nearby. He wasn't one who relished being idle, and Catherine had brought over several case files for him to have a look at if the mood persisted.
He appreciated her thoughtfulness, and the fact that she knew him well enough to think of such a thing.
"Okay", she said, brushing her hands on her jeans. Her pager had gone off several minutes ago, and she was still reluctant to leave. "I should go".
"Catherine, I'm fine", he said tiredly.
She nodded, unconvinced. "I know. Okay. I'm going. I'll call by some time tomorrow".
"That should be fine".
She started towards the door, and opened it fluidly. She stopped dead in the doorway when she realised Sara stood poised on the other side, prepared to ring the doorbell. "Oh! Sara. Hi".
Sara met her gaze uncertainly, glancing at Grissom hesitantly over her shoulder. "Hi".
Catherine awkwardly cleared her throat, lifting her handbag over her shoulder. "Well, I was just leaving", she announced quickly, brain ticking over as she stared between them again. "Bye, Gil".
"Goodbye, Catherine", he said half-heartedly, eyes already focused intently on Sara as she entered the room.
Catherine closed the door loudly behind her, effectively blocking Sara's last route of escape. The door boomed significantly in the sudden silence of the room, and Sara stopped awkwardly beside his breakfast bar, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.
"Hey, Grissom. Um, how are you?"
"Fine", he answered, remaining seated, despite knowing he would prefer to stand.
She nodded, looking down. "I'm glad. That you're okay, I mean. I'm sorry, I um, didn't come and see you earlier".
"It's okay", he said evenly. "I understand there was a lot of work to do in my absence". It was difficult to keep the bitterness out of his tone, and Sara's eyes slid up, obviously detecting it.
Sara swallowed. "Grissom, I want you to understand… why I was avoiding you. What you did…" Her eyes crinkled as she winced, struggling to come up with adequate words to describe the way she was feeling. All eloquence eluded her when she was around Grissom, and she usually started to babble.
She decided to be upfront. "You could have died trying to protect me. You were shot because of me".
Grissom frowned, and he felt his side protest as he rose abruptly to his feet. He ignored the pain, focused intently on Sara's features. That was the pain he cared about. "Sara…" He frowned, deeply perplexed by her reaction. How could she think this was her fault? He had never known someone so self-sacrificing as Sara. "You can't blame yourself for this."
She looked down. "I know. I know it's irrational. I know things were a lot better than what they could have been. I just want to apologise…" She sighed. "For making things so complicated between us. For making things turn out this way. Maybe it would be better… if I just…"
He stared at her with unrestrained intensity, slowly moving forward. "Better if you just what?"
Sara hesitated, lower lip trembling as she met finally his probing stare. "If I left Vegas. If I end this once and for all." She laughed humourlessly, feeling hot tears unwillingly prick behind her eyes. She knew this had not been Nick's intention when he gave her his advice, but he could never understand the complexity of her relationship with Grissom. None of them could. "What you said to me was true. Changing things won't make our situation any better. If I leave then this… thing between us, whatever it is, will go away. I won't make things awkward anymore and things at work… will just go back to normal."
He cocked his head, eyeing her carefully, unable to keep Alex's voice out of his head. "Is that what you want?"
She eyed him uncertainly, struggling to blink away her tears. "What?"
"You told me I never care about what you think. I'm asking now. Is that what you want?"
"I… no", she choked back a sob. "No, it's not what I want! How can you ask me that now? I'm trying to do what you want here. I'm trying to let you off the hook".
He frowned deeply, coming to a halt in front of her. His warmth radiated over her, tormenting her with what she could never have. Promising security that just wasn't there.
"Do you remember the night I left San Francisco?" he asked, suddenly serious.
Sara frowned at his shift in conversation, struggling to remain focused on the soft masculine cadence of his voice. "Yes. Of course".
"Do you remember what happened that night?"
"You… you walked me home", she said softly, confused where he was going. His blue eyes were fixed on her intently, and showed such unusual warmth and affection she was taken aback.
"You invited me in", he said quietly. "And I said no. And I walked away".
She nodded slowly, mutely, feeling a burning deep in her throat.
"Do you have any idea how much I regretted that?" he murmured. "How much I thought about that, years later, and what my life would have been like if I accepted?"
"We were going to have coffee", Sara said stupidly, staring him in the face. She realised he had come closer, and her back was almost flush to the counter, his face hovering over hers. His warm breath brushed her cheek, and she swallowed, almost forgetting about his gun wound.
"You know that's not what would have happened", he said softly.
Sara shivered. "Grissom, I don't know what you want from me."
"I want you to stay… in Vegas", he murmured quietly.
"Why?" she asked desperately.
"Because I want you to", he said simply.
"What about what—?"
"What I said?" he finished, lifting a finger to lightly trace the side of her face.
Sara closed her eyes at the sudden gesture; unconsciously leaning into him, skin tingling under his touch. "Y-yes", she faltered, breath hitching in her throat.
Grissom breathed out a sigh. "Let's just say I've had a lot of time to think about that."
Sara reluctantly opened her eyes to gaze at him, and noticed him wince as he moved against the wound in his side. She blinked, glancing down, unconsciously reaching out and touching his chest through the cotton of his shirt. "Grissom, you should be sitting down. You're still hurt".
"I have to do one thing first".
He propped two fingers under her chin, firmly lifting her face to level with his. He gazed into her eyes, as if for silent clarification, and then lowered his lips to hers, seizing them in an intense, soft kiss, full of adulation and promise.
Sara's hands slid up the front of his shirt, unconsciously clutching the soft fabric in her fingers, and Grissom gently deepened the kiss, conveying all of his unspoken feelings of love and adoration.
Sara broke away first, finding her hand gently lifting to graze his rough cheek. "Griss… I really think you should sit down now".
He smiled lightly, allowing himself to lean against her when he realised the pain was persistent. "That might be a good idea".
She smiled dimly, and helped him to the couch, and he pulled her down beside him, grasping hold of her hand. "I mean it, Sara", he said quietly, closing his eyes as exhaustion overcame him, leaning his head back against the sofa. "I want you here".
"I know", she murmured softly, lightly caressing his arm. She leant against the crook of his neck, soft hair tickling his chin. "And I'll be here when you wake up".
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FIN