Sprogy, you crack me up!
Chapter 7
A blinding pain woke him up. People were shouting at him, and he wanted to explain to them that he couldn't do whatever it was they wanted. He was too busy waiting for his head to explode. New waves of pain shot through his head as he opened his eyes. What was he doing on the floor?
"Gil? Gil, are you okay?"
Hearing Catherine's voice brought it all back. The phone call, Sara, the frustration, calling Al, Catherine's arrival. He remembered Al's report on Sara's condition, and how hard he tried to focus on the words while ignoring the migraine increasing in magnitude. The last time he had passed out from a migraine had been back in college. Normally he would have taken his pills at the first sign of a migraine. The pills, while wonderful for taking away the pain, had a side effect of making him drowsy and made focusing difficult. He decided not to take them, even though he had an emergency dose in the glove compartment of his truck.
"I'm fine." He winced at the light, bringing up his hand to shade his eyes.
"You know, Gil, you might need to buy a new dictionary. Your definition of fine and mine are very different." Catherine leaned down to help him stand up enough to get into a chair.
"Here. Take these." Robbins stood before him, a glass of water in one hand and a paper cup with three small pills inside in the other. "They're just ibuprofen. I assume you won't take anything stronger."
Grissom gratefully took the medicine.
"Treating a migraine with aspirin is like trying to cut down a tree with a butter knife. Let me know if you decide you want something stronger."
"This will be good." The pain filling his head and shooting down his arm, and the lights flashing before his eyes directly contradicted his words, but no one else had to know that.
Catherine bit her tongue, trying hard not to contradict his words. She had so many things to say to him, but knew her questions would have to wait just a little longer.
"When's the last time you ate? Do you want me to go get you something?"
"I'm not hungry." Grissom sat slumped in the waiting room chair, eyes closed and fingers pressed to his temples.
"You were at the scene all night, so I know it has been hours since you ate. I'm going to go down to the cafeteria and get you something. If nothing else, you know that you need the fuel, if you are going to be here for Sara." She stumbled over the last word. It still seemed strange to imagine that Sara was here in the hospital. It did answer many of her questions about the changes in Grissom's behavior, if he had known what was going on from the beginning. She suspected that he had. What the hell was going on?
Doc Robbins stayed in the waiting room to keep an eye on Grissom while Catherine went in search of sustenance. She checked her pager, not surprised to see messages from Nick, Warrick, Greg, Brass and, unfortunately, the sheriff. They could all wait a little longer, she decided. First she needed some answers. She needed to talk to Grissom, and warn him before she called in the gang. They would come as soon as they heard, of that there was no question.
The cafeteria was not open, which was understandable since it was not quite six in the morning. Night shift wasn't even over yet, something she was sure the sheriff would mention when she talked to him latter. For three members of the shift to disappear had surly been noticed. There would be some explaining to do. Catherine found a vending machine, and after emptying her pockets of change she returned to the lounge.
"Here, eat this." She handed him a package of peanut butter crackers and an apple. For Al and herself she had cups of coffee, for Grissom a bottle of water.
"Grissom, I know it's hard, but I need you to tell me about Sara. There are calls that need to be made. I can do that, but I need to know what to say. The sheriff has been calling."
"Screw the sheriff," he spat out as he unwrapped the crackers.
Catherine sighed. Now was not the time for a discussion about politics, but just avoiding the issue wasn't going to make it go away. Well, they'd have to table that conversation for later.
"Okay. But can you tell me about Sara?"
Grissom opened his eyes and looked at his friend. His promise to Sara warred with his promise to himself. He needed to do what was best for her, and he wasn't sure keeping her condition a secret was the best thing now. She would need support when she got out of surgery, and as much as he would be there for her, he knew he couldn't do everything. Selfishly, he admitted to himself, he needed support too.
"I accidentally ran into Sara at the hospital a few weeks after she left the lab. She didn't leave Las Vegas, but told everyone that she did because she didn't want us to learn the truth." He stopped there, and uncapped his water bottle. He gulped down half the contents before putting the lid back on. Catherine watched him patiently, long experienced with Grissom's need to think before speaking, especially about difficult topics.
"I insisted on taking her home," he continued, not mentioning the fact that she had been too week at the time to protest. "The day before she turned in her leave of absence she had gone to the doctor for some test results. The diagnosis was cancer."
Catherine was speechless. Sarah, cancer? How could she not tell them? Didn't she understand that they were friends and would have helped her? But then, it sounded just like her, to cope with it all on her own. She looked over to Al Robbins. It was clear that Grissom's relegation was not a surprise to him. She wasn't sure if she was Seuss that he had confided in someone else, or relieved that he at least had someone to talk to.
"What can I do to help?"
Grissom was grateful for her support. It had been hard, the last few months, to see her at work and not say anything. Just the knowledge that he no longer had to restrain his words around her eased some of the tension in his head. Either that or the ibuprofen was starting to take effect.
"I don't know."
Grissom was asleep on the couch in the corner of the room. They had moved from the waiting room on the first floor to a smaller one on the third room. It was closer to the OR, and more private then the main room. Catherine had cajoled and Robbins had lectured, until the combination had been enough to convince Grissom to lay down. He hadn't given in until the both of them had promised that they would wake him the moment there was any news on Sara. It would probably be a couple of hours, though.
Once he was settled both Catherine and Robbins headed for the phones. Robbins checked in with the morgue and then called his wife to let her know that he would be late coming home. Catherine called home, and then dialed Warrick's cell phone.
"War, it's Catherine."
"Cath, finally. I've been paging you for over an hour. Where are you?" He was worried. First Grissom leaves a crime scene, then Catherine disappears. Even Doc Robbins had left the lab, which was weird because he was rarely out of his domain during shift hours.
"I'm at Desert Palms. I need you to make sure that anything that didn't get done this shift is farmed out to days. I won't be back today, and neither will Grissom."
He was filled with dread. Ducking out before the shift ended to go to the hospital? No way was that a good sign.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't get into it over the phone. If you want to come here after shift I'll explain everything then." She fervently hoped he would. "Oh and Warrick, try to avoid Eckley and the Sheriff."
Warrick stared at the phone ring after she hung up. Yeah, like he was going to wait another hour before finding out what was going on.
"Nick, Greg, grab your gear. We're out of here."
They ran into Brass in the parking lot, and together the four of them drove to the hospital. It was a quiet ride, and thanks to Warrick's heavy foot it was a quick on.
Warrick hadn't thought to ask Catherine where in the hospital she was. They checked the main waiting room. There were a few people sitting in chairs, but none that concerned them. Brass cut to the chaise, demanding the attention of a passing doctor. He flashed his badge, not feeling at all guilty about using it to his advantage.
"I'm looking for a couple of people. A man, about fifty, salt and pepper hair, and a woman, five foot five, strawberry blond hair. There might have been another man with them, walking with the aid of a cane. Have you seen them?"
The doctor looked at Brass's badge, then back to his face. "Are they in some kind of trouble?"
"No." I hope not. "They're coworkers."
"They were here earlier. They went up to the third floor. Miss. Sidle should be out of surgery in another hour or so."
"Wait, what?"
"Who?"
"Who should be out of surgery?"
"Sara?"
They all spoke at the same time, they're shock and concern obvious. The ER doctor winced, wondering if he should have said anything. The four people before him were apparently more then just coworkers. It was not really his place to say anything about patients, but the homicide captain's badge had thrown him.
"Take the elevator to the third floor. Walk straight ahead. Waiting room is the third door to your right." He turned and left the room, eager to escape from the intense looks focused on him.
Left alone the four men stared at each other.
"He did say Sidle, didn't he?" Brass questioned the three criminalists, hoping that he was the victim of sudden (albeit temporary) auditory hallucinations.
"That would explain why Grissom said 'Sara' when he answered the phone earlier." Nick mentioned the fact, which he had left out of his story earlier.
"What is Sara doing back in Vegas?" Greg wondered out loud.
"I'm more concerned about why she's in surgery." Warrick a little too harshly.
Greg looked hurt at his biting tone. "Of course. So am I."
"Only one way to find out, children." Brass lead the way to the elevator.
Catherine and Doc Robbins were quietly talking in the corner of the room when the four men found them. Sitting silently next to Robbins was a woman in her fifties, who was soon introduced as being his wife. Grissom was still asleep on the couch. They were the only people in the room.
"You all having a party, and forgot to invite us?" Brass attempted to begin what he figured was going to be a hard conversation with his usually dry humor. "The way people kept leaving during the middle of shift, I was feeling left out."
Catherine rolled her eyes, but secretly she was glad to see the weathered homicide captain, not to mention the three CSIs that walked in behind him. She smiled at them, but put her finger up to her lips in warning.
"Grissom's asleep. Migraine."
They all pulled up chairs, creating a haphazard circle in the corner of the room farthest from Grissom's couch. Warrick was the first to speak.
"Doctor downstairs said something about Sara being in surgery. What's going on?"
In whispered conference Catherine told the new arrivals everything she had been able to learn, deferring to Doc Robbins for the more technical questions.
"Damn," Nick exclaimed when the whole story was out.
He might have said more, but at that moment a scrub garbed doctor entered the room.
"Miss. Sidle made it through the surgery with flying colors. She's being moved to a room as I speak."
There was an audible sigh from everyone in the room.
"When can we see her?" Greg was the first to inquire.
"She's asleep now, will be for at least a few hours. You can each see her for a few minutes after she gets settled. She should be able to have regular visits tomorrow."
When the doctor left the room Catherine rose from her chair to awaken Grissom. Gently she shook his arm.
"Grissom, wake up. Sara's out of surgery."
"Sara?" he repeated, slightly confused after being pulled out of sleep.
"Is she all right?" He sat up. Blinking, he looked around the room, noticing for the first time that there were quite a few more people then there had been earlier.
"What are you all doing here?"
"Sara's made it through the surgery fine. And we're here because we're family. And this is what family's for." Nick answered for the group, who nodded their heads in agreement.
To be continued...