Chapter 69

Not About Trust

Gil stayed at his Uncle's house the first two nights back in Santa Monica. He hadn't been able to bring himself to go home to where his mother had lived. It seemed too soon to go back. He needed time. Time to pull himself together and get over the shock first, then he could go back to his mother's house.

Arranging the funeral had been one of the hardest things he felt he'd ever had to do – harder than processing any crime scene. Harder that looking at any decaying corpse. Harder than the first time he'd told Sara he loved her. The whole process of arranging a funeral, and meeting with family he had not seen in years, was overwhelmingly exhausting.

Years of detachment from almost everything in life had taught him how to get through situations like this without a hint of emotion showing through. This stunned his family completely, especially his Uncles daughter, his cousin Rebecca.

He'd been lying in bed in his Uncle Herb's house when he heard Rebecca and his uncle Herb talking in the next room. They'd obviously forgotten how the walls could be thin as paper, and that every single word that was uttered was heard practically as clear as crystal.

"It's disturbing how he can be so completely emotionless…" Rebecca was saying, her voice was dry from years of smoking, although she sounded slightly more emotional than Gil would have given her credit for.

"Give him a break, Becca, his mother just died. He doesn't know how to deal with it," Uncle Herb had replied, Gil heard a sigh, and he could hear someone pacing, the soft lighter step seemed to indicate it was Rebecca who was the one who was pacing.

"I don't know why he even came back," Rebecca admitted, "it seems like he doesn't even care."

Gil closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound of her voice. Of course he cared. It was killing him inside so much he cared. How could she not understand that?

"He cares, Becca. He's just better at dealing with grief than most people are. It's his job…the things he's seen. He's seen death, he deals with it every day. He knows the process, he's used to it."

"No one gets used to their mother dying, Dad," Rebecca replied, "he hasn't been here in…what, three years?"

Gil deeply sighed to himself, she was right. He hadn't been. He'd kept in contact with his mother through frequent letters, but apart from this, he had not visited in the longest time. His job had kept him distracted from even his own family. At the time, this had not seemed a terrible thing at all. Now looking back on it, the guilt began to surface.

"What has that go to do with anything?" Herb demanded.

"Nothing except it proves he didn't care – he's selfish. He cared more about his job than about his own mother."

Gil felt the persistent head pain from trying to hold back tears. He pulled the pillow over his head and tried to drown out the sound completely.

"No wife, no kids, just work. That's all he does. Work," Rebecca was saying, a little more shrill now, "he probably hasn't even had a girlfriend since he was twenty."

"Shut up," Herb replied, "do you want to wake him? He's had a tough day."

The conversation seemed to end right there. Gil took the pillow away from his head, glad the argument was over. It wasn't the first time he'd overheard such discussion. At a family gathering earlier that day he'd heard two distant cousins whispering about his detachment from his family also. A particular distant cousin, who was nineteen, had whispered how incredibly weird he was – that was her exact words.

He'd heard Rebecca talking to someone on the phone earlier that night, and he'd heard Rebecca say so coldly to someone – whom he was unaware – "all she wanted was grandkids…went on all the time about how Gil should settle, get married…have kids. It's sad…she never got what she wanted…her own son didn't even visit her let alone give her any grandkids."

Gil tried to shut the thoughts out of his head. The words stung like the venomous bite of a snake.

What does Rebecca think I should have done? Just pick any woman and settle down so it'd make my mother happy? Just so she could see grandkids? Life is more complicated than that. How can Rebecca complain about my life when her own is so complicated?

Despite himself, he found himself trying to imagine holding a child of his own and passing that tiny thing to his mother to hold. That child had no face, he couldn't see it clearly in his head. He could see the smiles on his mothers face, he could almost hear her giddy laughter, but he couldn't picture what any child of his would look like.

He felt like crying again, and had to fight to hold it back. It wasn't that he didn't think his mother deserved a few tears in her passing. It was more that he knew his mother would have never approved of him crying over her.

Sleep still wouldn't come, and he had the overwhelming urge to hear someone else speak to him, he needed to talk. Sighing, he picked his cellular phone from the nightstand and flipped it open. He dialed Catherine's cellular phone.

"Willows," came Catherine's fast reply.

"Hey, it's me," Gil replied hoarsely, quite aware of the emotion in his voice.

"Oh, hey, hold on," Catherine said a moment, she ceased to speak for a minute, he heard background sounds and voices, and then the thud of what sounded like a door closing. "Sorry, I was in the break room," Catherine replied, "how are things?"

"I just figured I would phone…and find out how things are going at work," he answered softly, he leaned back against the pillows of the bed, he wasn't comfortable at all. He wasn't sure if it was the bed, the house he was in, or who was in the next room that made him feel that way.

"Grissom…" Catherine began. He already knew what was coming. He just didn't want to hear it.

"I know…I shouldn't be calling to find out about work," Gil gave a dejected sigh, "just…just tell me."

"Warrick and Greg just finished a case, me and Nick are just taking a short coffee break before continuing with our separate cases," Catherine responded, she paused a minute, "Gil…you sound terrible."

"I know. My cousin Rebecca chain smokes and it's been impossible to not breathe in any of her smoke," he replied, "it's taking it's toll on my voice."

"That's not what I meant," Catherine admitted.

"I know, Cath. I know."

"Do…you need to talk?"

"No…I'm fine…I just…" he trailed off, but he couldn't find the words to continue the sentence.

Catherine gave a moment of silence too, as if she were even finding it awkward of thinking of something else to say. "When's the funeral?"

"Day after tomorrow," he answered. "I'll be back in Vegas the day after the funeral…"

"The others were asking questions today, I told them you were away at a seminar – that you'd had it planned for weeks and had forgotten all about it."

"Did they buy it?"

"Nick buys it, Warrick doesn't," Catherine confessed.

Gil paused, "Cath…can…you do me a big favour…?"

"Yes…?" Catherine asked.

"After your shift…will you check on Sara? She's at my place…will you just…make sure she's okay…and…uh…make sure she's feeding my pets."

"Pets?" Catherine asked, "your pets are the kind of things you'd find stuck to your shoe," she cracked.

It made him smile ever so slightly when she said this, it momentarily eased the tension within him.

"Okay, I'll check on her…is there any reason why she wouldn't be okay?"

Gil chewed her lip, contemplating telling her, but he decided against it. It was Sara's problem, no one else needed to know. If she wanted them to know, she'd tell them on her own. "No…I just…thought maybe, you know, with her being alone in my house with bugs she'd be a little…uncomfortable…"

"Understandable," Catherine replied. "Gil…are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes…I am," he lied. Inside he was sure by now he was crying, outside, he couldn't quite find it in himself to let the tears out.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go…" Catherine sighed, "I have so much to do tonight…but…uh, if anything else comes up and you need to talk…" she trailed off.

"I'll call," Gil promised, he gave a nod although she wasn't even there to see it.

"Bye, Grissom," was Catherine's final words before she hung up on him.

Gil stared down at his phone for a few moments before deciding to call Sara. He'd promised he'd call, and he needed to make sure she was alright, and most importantly, that she wasn't drunk.

He had to pause to even remember his own home number before dialing, and he waited. There was no answer, and he wondered if Sara might even be there.

"Hey, you've reached the phone of Gil Grissom. Leave a message after the beep," he heard his own voice as the answering machine kicked in.

Gil waited for the beep, and then began to speak, "Sara…it's me. Just…checking in…." he trailed off.

There was the click that came when someone picked up the phone during the recording of the message, "Hey," came Sara's response a moment later.

"Why didn't you answer?" Gil asked.

"I wasn't sure if I should…since it is your phone," Sara reminded.

"Oh…well, uh…yeah, I guess…that makes sense," he admitted. He felt the relief overwhelm him that she was not drunk. He could tell by the sound of her voice that she was perfectly sober.

Doesn't mean anything, she was perfectly sober before – but she'd still been drinking when you weren't there. She could have

"Where are you?" Sara asked.

"Does it matter?" he sighed.

"Yes. It matters – to me at least."

"Fine. California…I'm…in California."

"Why are you there?"

"I just am," He rubbed his head, "Sara…I have some things I have to do here…it'll take a while…"

"When will you be back?" Sara asked.

"Sunday."

Sara sighed, "Gil...why can't you just tell me what's going on? You want us to have mutual trust…if you're serious about that why can't you just tell me what you're doing in California right now?"

Gil forced the tears back again, "Sara, I'm just doing what I think is best…for us both. Why I'm here…is not important."

Yes it is. It's important. Are you crazy? You've just lost your mother, and you're sitting in the dark in your uncle's house giving the woman you love nothing but excuses

"Don't you trust me?" Sara asked, her voice full of emotion.

"Of course I trust you. Sara, this isn't about trust, okay? Believe me, the last thing it's about is trust."

No, it's definitely not about trust. I'm putting her needs ahead of my own. Which is what any man would do for the woman he loves. If only I could tell her that…

Gil noted on the small digital clock by the bedside that it was getting late. Exhaustion was dragging him down, he hadn't been able to sleep before but now it seemed almost inevitable, "Sara…I have to go…"

"When will I hear from you again?" Sara asked, sounding slightly crestfallen.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow," he promised softly.

"Okay," Sara agreed.

Gil drew a breath, "Sara…I love you," he murmured softly.

"I love you too."

When he hung up, he felt slightly better for having talked to her. Her voice had offered him just enough solace to get him through that lonely night.

Sucky chapter, and the next one is just as sucky but I'm having a bit of a hard time writing at the moment.:P

Thanks to the people who keep reviewing!

Ash