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Desert Palm HospitalFour days after the explosion and Jim Brass slowly opened his eyes, his vision fuzzy at best. Hearing the rhythmic beep and hum of machinery, smelling the sterile surroundings, he knew instantly where he was.
Turning his head, he squinted at the figure sitting next to the bed, vaguely recognizing the strawberry blonde hair. A name floated through his memory but he was aware enough to know it wasn't her. That name belonged to a part of his life he'd left behind. He struggled to remember, to put the right name with the face. And then clarity.
"Catherine?" he croaked in a voice that sounded foreign to him
She lifted her head, startled at the sound of her name, but then saw Jim looking at her and smiled. "Hi there."
He turned his head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend the strange numbness that engulfed his body. There should be pain or cold, some kind of sensation but instead there was nothing except a soreness in his throat that felt like he'd spent the last few days yelling.
Seeing him grimace as he swallowed, she said, "You had a tube down your throat until yesterday. Want some ice chips?"
Nodding, he felt grateful when she spooned them into his dry mouth. "How bad's the damage?"
Standing next to the bed, leaning on the railing, she said, "Well, my crime scene's completely destroyed."
He shook his head slowly.
She grinned at him. "Oh, you meant you?"
Catherine sat down in the chair next to the bed and hesitated before finally resting her hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. She was suddenly aware that he was watching her, waiting for an answer, studying her face in an extremely disconcerting way. She wouldn't be able to lie to him; he'd know in a minute.
She couldn't tell him how lucky he'd been, how he'd gone into cardiac arrest before they could even load him into the ambulance, how a five inch piece of wood that splintered in his chest missed his heart by less than an inch or how he nearly bled out once they removed it. Right now, he didn't need to know about the nasty infection that sent him back to surgery yesterday morning and left her once again staring at the pale landscape painted on the light blue wall in the waiting area. Later, when he was stronger, she'd tell him how much she hated that goddamn painting.
Right now Jim Brass only needed to know the positives. He wasn't ready for the whole truth—not yet anyway.
"You gave us a pretty good scare but the doctors assure us you'll live." She offered more ice chips and he accepted.
"Didn't know you cared."
His voice was devoid of its intended sarcasm but Catherine knew what he meant. "Yeah, well, you know how hard it is to break in a new homicide detective."
"I'm touched." He grew very quiet then asked, "Still got all my parts?"
She laughed. "Everything is still attached but a few things might be a little worse for wear right now."
His eyes closed heavily then slowly opened. "Don't feel anything."
Looking at the morphine drip, she said, "Be grateful. I suspect they've got you pumped up on some fairly good drugs right now. When those wear off, I imagine you'll be raising all kinds of hell with the nurses."
He cocked an eyebrow and grinned briefly before his expression turned serious. "Sara okay?"
"A little banged up but she's doing just fine."
He smiled again. "Good."
"You saved her life."
"Had to."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." Licking his dry lips, hovering on the edge of sleep, he managed to say, "Grissom would've killed me" in a voice barely above a whisper.
"You need to get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."
His eyes were closed again but he nodded slowly.
She gave his hand a squeeze, unconcerned when he didn't squeeze back. He was out again.
Catherine stood beside his bed for a little while longer, trying to reconcile her feelings. For reasons she couldn't quite figure out, she didn't want to leave. Maybe it was necessity—the need to be there for a friend—or maybe it was something else, something deeper and more obvious that she really wasn't ready to admit to just yet. Taking a seat in the chair next to his bed, she made herself comfortable. Whatever it was, it kept her there, waiting and wondering.
oooooo
The girl looked completely out of place as she stepped off the elevator and stopped at the nurses' station.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for James Brass. They said he was on this floor."
The nurse referred to a patient list and then looked up. "His visitation is restricted to family and…"
"I'm his daughter," she replied with attitude. "I guess that makes me family, doesn't it?"
The RN stared her down for a few beats before relenting. "Room 306, just on the left."
The girl turned, her long blonde hair swinging emphatically, and scanned the room numbers. She should have known instantly which one was his; the rent-a-cop sitting by the door should have clued her in. But then, she never figured herself to be all that smart.
The security officer stood up, halting her effort to just walk into the room. "Got some ID?"
"I'm his daughter. See the family resemblance?"
Quite frankly, he didn't. "Sorry, unless you can show me who you are, I can't let you in."
She noticed his right hand resting on the handle of his gun and rolled her eyes. Digging through her canvas bag, she dug out a wallet and her driver's license. Thrusting it out for him to see, she tried her best 'bored' look.
"Ellie Rebecca Brass," he read aloud. "All right, you can go in."
She snatched it back from the man and pushed the door open. Entering, seeing the equipment with its tubes and lines running like cables to the bed, to her father, her entire tough girl demeanor melted away. She had spent the last eight years hating him, rebelling against everything he stood for but this was different. This time he couldn't fight back.
"He was awake a little while ago but he's in a lot of pain so they're keeping him pretty doped up."
Ellie had been so focused on him that she jumped at the sound of another voice.
"Catherine Willows."
"I'm Ellie."
"I know."
Ellie's head turned sharply.
"He talks about you all the time."
"Yeah, I bet."
Catherine shook her head in a way that might have been construed as pity. "Yes, he does." Staring at the young girl for a long moment, seeing something painfully familiar in her demeanor, she continued. "Look, whatever beef you have with your dad is your issue and this isn't the time or place for it. Right now, he needs you."
"Oh, yeah? Where was he when I needed him?" She glared at Catherine, daring her to respond.
But Catherine Willows didn't back down. "Look, if it makes you feel any better, he's about as close to the bottom as he can get right now so why don't you just come over here and give him a good, hard punch in the gut?"
"I don't have to take this."
"Yeah, you do." Catherine crossed her arms across her chest and shifted her weight to her back foot. If this girl wanted a battle, she was ready for a fight. "Don't you get it? Your father nearly died."
"It was only a matter of time before someone got to him."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "There's bitter and there's bitch. You're obviously the latter."
"I had lots of time to work my way up."
Catherine really didn't want this confrontation but the girl seemed to draw it out of her, much to her surprise. She felt compelled to defend Brass. He might not have been the best father but it was obvious he loved his daughter. Catherine was a parent; she understood that love. Whatever they did, whatever they said, they were still your flesh and blood.
"What is it with you? You spit on him, try to humiliate him in public, and still the guy adamantly defends your innocence against strong evidence to the contrary. Being the uncaring father that he is, he tries to find you only to end up getting his head cracked and coming very close to losing his badge." Catherine grinned coldly, knowingly as she took in Ellie's expression. "You didn't know that, did you?"
Incredibly, the girl shook her head but her smirk remained.
"The point is, being a parent means unconditional love. No matter what you do, you're always going to be his little girl and he'll do everything he can to protect you even if it means losing his badge." Catherine wasn't quite sure who she was speaking to more at that moment: Ellie or Lindsey. It could have easily gone either way.
"That's just it." Her demeanor mellowed slightly. "He still sees me as his little girl because that's the only time he was there to see me. Ask him about the years in between. Ask him where he was on my 10th birthday. Ask him what he got me on my 11th birthday. Wanna know what I remember most about my dad? His back. Cause every time I saw him he was going out the door."
Catherine listened to this girl, heard the vehemence in her words and silently wondered if it wasn't a prelude to what would be coming from her own daughter in a few years.
"If you feel so bitter towards him, tell me one thing. Why'd you come here?"
Ellie swallowed, her mouth set in what seemed to be a permanent frown. "Maybe I do care." The girl was quiet for a long time, never moving, only watching. "The woman who called…she didn't say what happened."
"There was an explosion at a crime scene we were investigating." Catherine took a deep breath as the magnitude of what could have happened hit her once again. "He made sure we all got out alive."
Ellie could say a lot of things about her dad, most of them not very nice, but she'd never call him a coward. When she was a little girl, she remembered hearing how he'd saved his partner's life, pulling him out of the line of fire during a raid on a crack house. Maybe that's why she still felt so much animosity towards him. He could face drug dealers, mobsters and murders but he could never seem to face her.
Not venturing any closer, she turned her attention back to the bed and asked, "Is he going to be okay?"
Catherine had heard the details from Warrick and didn't know what to expect when she saw her enter the room. Her body language was still full of attitude but her eyes told the real tale. Deep down, she was nothing more than a scared girl.
Leaning on the railing almost protectively, Catherine said, "He had us worried for a while but yes, he's going to be okay."
She was quiet for a long time, just staring at the motionless figure on the bed. "Good," she said at last. "Tell him I came by, okay?"
"Won't you stick around a little while longer?"
"No, this way works best." She started for the door then stopped. "Are you his girlfriend or something?"
"No, just a friend."
Ellie shrugged as Catherine tried to discern the look that flashed across the young girl's face. Regret?
Without another word, the girl slipped from the room, back to the lit corridor. And just like that, she was gone.
xx
To be continued in chapter 5.