Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Spoilers: None as far as I am aware
Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.
Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.
Thanks again for the reviews, TheSiriusSparrow, xcatch, sitarra, cherishedcrush and Lissa88. And also to gckyr for putting this on story alert. More reviews would be greatly appreciated. I'm sorry if the angst is getting ya'll down and, yeah, sitarra – I know what you mean – I don't know why, I guess it's just the perfect opportunity for angst. And also personally because I love ER and, in fact, medicine in general and can lift bits of technical jargon right out of that. The perfect crime... Well anyway, yes review if you get the time and if you liked reading this (or if you didn't, actually. I'm more than fine with concrit) – Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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Perpetuity. Chapter Nine. Noah
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Sara and Warrick walked quickly through the now-familiar corridors of the hospital towards the ward where Grissom was. When she saw Catherine's outline standing rigidly outside the door of his room, gazing in, Sara broke into a jog, dragging Warrick along behind her by the hand.
"We came as soon as we heard," she told Catherine, coming up behind her. Catherine nodded an unspoken thanks and returned to stare back through the window at her husband on a ventilator again.
"The others are coming whenever they can make it," Warrick added, squeezing her shoulder slightly and offering a smile. "Aren't you allowed to go in?"
Catherine looked blankly at him for a while before replying. "No – no I'm allowed in, I just...I couldn't yet." she admitted. "Thanks for coming."
"Not at all."
With a determined nod, Catherine pushed the door open and walked in; after a pause, Sara followed her in with Warrick and for a long time until Nick, Brass and Greg turned up later, they sat in silence, broken only by the steady wheeze of the ventilator.
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Propped by pillows and breathing on his own again, Grissom smiled expectantly around at the room. It was another Saturday morning, everyone was there and Gil was waiting patiently to hear more stories from a life he couldn't recall.
"Well?" he prompted.
"I can't think of anything else," Nick replied, looking to Warrick and Sara who shrugged.
"Don't look at me – I'm all out of ideas," Greg held up his hands and turned to Catherine.
"I've got nothing else," she muttered helplessly, looking at her feet. It's true, she'd been through their meeting, their first 'date', their first kiss, when Lindsey was born and when they got married; he remembered nothing – just another lifetime of memories wasted.
"Catherine," Brass spoke up cautiously. "What about Noah? Tell him about Noah." Catherine's head snapped up and the others looked curiously around at her.
"I – I can't, Jim," she said fretfully, unconsciously bringing a hand up to her chest and fiddling with something around her neck.
"Who's Noah?" Lindsey asked her mother. Catherine stared desperately around at the faces, including Grissom's blank one, finally turning back to Jim Brass.
"No, I can't, Jim. I've..." she paused and laughed self-consciously. "I've tried to forget."
"But you haven't been able to, have you, Cath?" Jim pressed gently. "You can't forget. Maybe it's stuck with Gil too."
"Who's Noah?" Lindsey repeated. Catherine sighed and, relenting, smiled weakly at her daughter.
"You were very young, Linds – only about two years old," Catherine told her and, taking a breath to steady herself, delved back – right back into a confined space in her memory where she'd put everything dark, everything painful, in the hope that it'd go away. Subconsciously, she winced before retelling the story – it was all coming back now. Noah...
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Catherine flopped onto his sofa with a tired sigh and put her feet up, kicking off her shoes. Two-year old Lindsey was napping in the spare room that had become her second bedroom. Sometimes Catherine just needed to get away now and then; it was nice to have somewhere to go after work or somewhere to stay when Eddie was out on business trips.
"How about 'Alyssa'?" he suggested suddenly, putting down his book. Catherine looked up briefly before grabbing the remote and flicking through TV channels.
"It's Greek – meaning 'logical'," he furthered. Catherine laughed.
"That's all you want isn't it?" she joked. "You know a pretty big part of it is how you bring them up."
Grissom shrugged his shoulders and smiled fondly at her.
"It's a pretty name." he commented. Catherine grinned at him again.
"For a girl," she said.
"And who says it's a boy?" Gil asked, raising an eyebrow. Catherine smirked and avoided his eyes.
"You phoned the clinic, didn't you?" he realised, accusingly.
"Well can you blame me?" she protested. "I'm impatient – I can't wait four whole months to find out if I can find out now!"
"Three and a half!" Gil argued with a smile. Catherine rolled her eyes.
"I wanted to know! He's my baby, too," she complained. Gil stopped.
"Too?" he repeated. Catherine flushed; she'd been doing that far too much lately, slipping up and forgetting Eddie was the father. Gil was a friend. He was a friend. What was wrong with her?
"You know what I meant," she muttered. Grissom shrugged it off.
"How did he take it?" he changed the subject. Catherine groaned – she'd been putting off telling him for a while and only finally broke the news the night before.
"He didn't believe me first – then he was...he's happy," she answered, unconvincingly. He'd been pretty pissed off actually; he'd thought she was on the pill.
"That's nice," Gil replied, clearly not believing her. Catherine sighed.
"Well it doesn't matter anyway – I'm happy," she said and glanced down at the bump before adding: "It's not like I could hide it much longer; he may be permanently drunk or high, but he's not blind." Gil smiled and watched her for a while as she stared idly at the television screen.
"Noah – how about Noah?" he proposed.
"It's nice," Catherine began. "If I want to end up buying two of every stuffed animal for the little guy..."
Gil laughed, shook his head as she grinned impishly at him and he returned to his book.
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It was a Tuesday afternoon when it happened, the following Tuesday to be exact. Tuesday the 15th of November 1995. Of course she remembered; she could never forget. She'd been making lunch in the kitchen of the apartment she shared with Eddie having just picked Lindsey up from playschool. Lindsey was half-watching The Rugrats on Nick Jr. and was wearing denim dungarees. The two-year old had her hair in pigtails and a small band-aid on her thumb; it had one of the Disney princesses on it and Catherine had stuck it on her to cheer the toddler up after Lindsey'd shut it in a door. When making lunch, Catherine had to unplug the toaster and plug it in again to get it to work – stupid piece of crap. She remembered every little thing about that day.
At 12:21 she felt a dull ache surge down her lower back. She'd shrugged it off but remembered a similar feeling from half an hour earlier. The next time was at 12:38; it was stronger and sharper. At 13:15 she knew something wasn't right and, with trembling hands, called a cab.
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