Chapter 17
Grissom walked into the lab room and was greeted with the hisses of his cockroaches. He flipped on the lights and smiled as he walked to the drawing board. He set the sketchbook and box down, turning to flip on the computer and let it do its thing. He looked at the feeding chart and realized that Sara fed them two days ago, so they were ready, today. He fed them and then noted it on the chart. The computer 'pinged' and he walked back to sit in front of it. He reached over and turned on the printer before accessing his email. He was linked to the lab mail as well, so as the email was downloaded, he turned on his CD player and listened to Dar Williams. Ten minutes later, his computer chimed and he sat back, sipping his bourbon, and reading his email.
The first email was Tim Thorpe's, regarding Grissom senior's real estate holdings. Grissom read the opening sheet of the four page document and then printed it. He scrolled down to Larry Evans' email and did the same. He saved both emails on his hard drive and then read everything else. Thirty minutes later, a popup in the lower right hand corner indicated his mother was on line.
Are you there?
Hi, Mom, how are you?
A frantic mess. The show is tomorrow. I thought Roger was coming down to
help, but he felt that Jim needed him more. I beg to disagree. I sent the Jenkins
back to you. I sent it to the Lab because there's someone there all the time.
I hope that was all right. Oh my, I'm sorry, how are you?
I'm fine. I'm finding out a lot about Dad and when I can articulate it, I'll let you
know. You may get a call from Tim Thorpe or Larry Evans. They are the attorney
and accountant for the estate. They're legit, I met them last night. Mom, I have to cut this short, as I have to check the other fifty emails before Sara tells me dinner is ready.
I understand. Please, Gil, please, take great care of yourself and Sara. She is
A perfect match. I wasn't sure until this last visit. I love you, dear, never doubt
that.
Thanks, Mom, I love you, too. I'm still on medical leave, technically, although I
worked today for Catherine. I'll talk to you tomorrow night, after the show.
Good night.
Good night, sweetheart.
Grissom switched his attention back to the emails and answered those he could. Finally, he picked up the phone.
"Robbins,"
"Hey, it's Grissom,"
"Are you calling for me or A.J.?"
"You, Seb, I'm returning your call."
"Thanks, can we meet tomorrow?"
"Sure, after lunch okay? I have my physical at nine."
"Two o'clock at the FBI office?"
"I'll be there," Grissom said, writing it down on his pad.
"Great, thanks,"
"You're welcome, night,"
"Good night,"
Grissom hung up the phone and sipped his bourbon. He redialed and waited for the connection.
"Atwater,"
"It's Grissom,"
"Oh, hi, thanks, I need to talk to you about all of this. Do you have time tomorrow?"
"Yes, in the late morning. I need to get my medical taken care of so I can come back to work."
"I heard you were back to work."
"Just a few hours; a bug regression."
"Okay, well, can you meet me at eleven?"
"Sure," Grissom said, writing it down on his pad.
"Thanks,"
"You're welcome, good bye."
"Good bye,"
Grissom hung up the phone and looked at his watch, seven o'clock. He dialed a new number and sipped his bourbon.
"Speak,"
"You leave a helluva message,"
"Grissom, well I didn't think you were going to move into my office!"
"Neither did I, but there were forty years for me to catch up with,"
"Fair enough, I was serious, though, when I told you that I wanted to talk to you about your father. I've made enough mistakes with Catherine. I want to set you straight on some things."
"I can't see you tonight, Sam."
"The brunette, well, I can't blame you."
"Yes, Sara, and the fact that I've slept a total of six hours in the last twenty four, but not consecutively." Grissom said, defensively.
"I'm sorry, tomorrow night is fine. I work every night from six to six and then later as I need."
"Great, I don't think I'm working tomorrow, so I'll come and see you after Sara goes to work."
"Okay, Grissom, call before you come by."
"Thanks, Sam,"
"You bet, good night,"
"Good night."
Grissom hung up the phone and then turned off his computer. He walked to the drawing board and sat on his stool. Taking a gulp of his bourbon, he opened his father's sketchbook and took a trip down memory lane.
Sara walked into the Lab Room and saw Grissom leaning over a notebook on his desk. The music played softly in the background as she approached him. She stood behind him, looking at the sketches. They were all of Grissom with notes written on the margins. He didn't know she was there, so she softly tapped his chair until he realized her presence.
"Hi, sweetheart," he said, leaning back in the chair.
"Hi, you okay?" she asked as she slid her hands onto his shoulders, massaging them gently.
"I'm not sure. It's a little rough. This is my father's sketchbook of me. I guess my mother sent him photos, or he had someone do some research. Uhm…"
He looked at the black box and drew a deep breath.
"Sara, my father bought this for me when I was fourteen."
"After he left you?"
"Yes, and I want you to have it." Grissom finished, handing her the box.
Gently, she opened it, her eyes widening at the beauty of the ring. She looked at him and then back to the ring as if it couldn't be real. Sara took it out of the box and slipped it on her right ring finger; it was slightly large, but it didn't matter. She reached for his shoulder and turned him on the stool so he faced her.
"Gil, this is unequivocal." She remarked softly.
"I love you, Sara,"
"I love you, too," she said, leaning into him to kiss him deeply.
6:50pm
The doorbell rang faintly in the background.
"Uhm, dinner?" he said, pulling away from her kisses.
"Right…I'll meet you in the kitchen." She said, beaming at her new ring as she left the room.
Grissom smiled and returned his concentration to the sketchbook. He looked through the last ten pages, read the text, and felt conflicted. Finally, he shut the book and headed to the living room, carrying his empty bourbon glass. He walked to the breakfast bar and freshened his drink as Sara plated their Chinese food.
"Can I help?"
"Only to find a movie you want to watch." Sara said.
Grissom took his drink and walked to the sofa, turning on the television and scanning through the channels. She brought two plates to the coffee table and sat next to him. He handed her the remote with a sigh. She took it and turned it to Turner Broadcasting.
"Next, It Takes A Thief, the classic Hitchcock film with Grace Kelly and Cary Grant,"
"Perfect," she said, putting down the remote and starting her dinner.
He smiled but said nothing, trying to get his head around the sketches he'd seen. He concentrated on his dinner, her company, his cocktail and the film as it began to start. Finishing his dinner, he kicked off his shoes and put his feet on the coffee table, leaning back into the sofa, balancing his cocktail on his chest. Sara finished her dinner and snuggled up to him as he carefully put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
"Can you see?"
"Move your feet to the left, yes, perfect. Thanks,"
"I aim to please," he said, as all his worries seem to fade into the background.
9:15pm
Sara got up to do the dishes during the credits. Good to his word, Grissom fell asleep early into the movie, his head on her shoulder. He was dreaming now, his face turning, speaking occasionally, getting more agitated until he woke himself up.
He woke up quickly, dragging his forearm across his sweaty brow. Sara walked up to him with a cold bottle of water. He took it gratefully and drank the whole thing quickly. Reflexively, he put a hand to his stomach, where his ulcer had been, feeling a twinge.
"You okay?"
"Bad dreams," he said, standing.
She reached out her hand over the coffee table to steady him.
"Easy, is your ulcer acting up?"
"Yeah, I think I've forgotten to take my medicine in the last couple of days."
"Come here to the stool. I'll get your meds." Sara said, helping him.
He sat gingerly on the stool and sighed. Sara handed him his pills and a glass of water. He swallowed the pills and finished the glass of water.
"I need to go back to sleep. Would you make sure that I'm up at eight? I have a nine o'clock with Dr. Siegel, empty stomach."
"Sure, did you have Paul send a copy of the hospital records to him?"
"Yes, this morning,"
Sara walked out from the kitchen and stood next to him. He opened his legs and pulled her close, kissing her intensely. She responded and ran her fingers through his curls before anchoring them on his jaw. She pulled back and looked at him. His eyes were closed.
"Gil?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. The fatigue mixed with some pain was obvious in his eyes. She helped him to his feet and guided him to the circular staircase. He walked up ahead of her, finally arriving at the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the blank space above the bed. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed gently. He took two steps forward into the room and then stopped again, turning around to look at her.
"Please, Gil, you need to sleep," she said, brushing away the tears that were silently sliding down his face.
Sara pulled his t-shirt off and loosened the drawstring on his pants. They slid to the floor. She helped him to bed and then got into bed next to him. He rolled over, holding her lightly as his fatigue-laden emotions came to the surface. She spoke to him softly, trying to calm him. Slowly, he relaxed and then finally fell asleep. Sara reached over and set the alarm for eight and turned off the light.
An hour later, Grissom rolled away from her, pushing the sheets down to his waist. Sara got out of bed, went downstairs, checked the kitchen, turned off the lights and came back upstairs. She stripped to her underwear and got back into bed.
Thursday 2:30am
Grissom woke up in a start, his breath rapid, his chest heaving. He looked quickly at Sara to see if he had awakened her, but she remained motionless under the covers. He went into the bathroom, shut the door and turned on the lights. He filled the sink with cold water and dunked his head, running the water over the back of his head with his hands; feeling it run past his ears. He dried his face and turned out the lights, dead reckoning to the closet and got dressed. He walked downstairs, picked up his wallet, glasses, cell phone and keys and left the town house.
"Speak,"
"Mr. Braun, this is Patrick, we need you at the high stakes poker table as soon as you can."
"Patrick, what's going on?" Sam said, walking to the security monitors in his office, and clicking through to number 54, the high stakes poker table.
He saw what the problem was.
"Okay, I get it. Pour him a bourbon and keep him there. If he tries to leave, follow him and call me. I'm on my way." Sam said, slipping on his coat jacket.
Ten minutes later, Sam approached the high-stakes poker table and saw him. He was dressed in a open collar white oxford shirt, blue blazer, khakis, and loafers. His right hand was fidgeting and he was mumbling. As Sam approached, he could hear what was being said. He was working out the game, albeit quietly, it was still distracting.
"Grissom, hi, I thought you were going to call? Let's go to my office." Sam said, softly.
Grissom looked at him briefly and returned his gaze to the game. Sam spoke to the pit-boss privately and then picked up Grissom's drink.
"Kid? We're going upstairs. Let's go. We're gonna toss back a few and talk about your old man." Sam said, getting Grissom's attention.
Lou walked up and followed the two men back up to Sam's office. The door shut and Lou stood watch outside.
"Grissom, what are you doing here? Or more exactly, what were you doing downstairs?" Sam asked, setting Grissom's drink in front of him as he poured a scotch for himself.
"I remembered why I know how to play poker. My father taught me. I used to play during college to pick up extra money. I haven't played since I graduated. I guess I wanted to see if I still could do it." Grissom said, his voice soft as he sipped his bourbon.
"Let's put it this way, you are forbidden to gamble in my hotels. That's how well you still do it." Sam said, seriously.
"Okay, Sam," Grissom said, rocking his head back onto the sofa.
Sam watched with a small smile as Grissom fell asleep. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
"Willows,"
"Hey, Mugs, it's me."
"Hi, Sam, what's up?"
"Look, I can't get into the details but would you call Grissom's girlfriend, Sara I think her name is. Tell her he's crashed on my couch at the office. Feel free to give her my private number." Sam said, sitting at his desk, looking at the monitors.
"What, Grissom is with you? Yeah, you will have to tell me the details. Okay, I'll call Sara right now."
"Thanks, Mugs. Am I still seeing you and Lindsey at the ranch this weekend?" Sam asked, now looking at the photo of his granddaughter.
"Actually Sam, I think it depends on Grissom. If he can come back to work, then we're there." Catherine said, honestly.
"I'll work on him then," Sam said with a chuckle.
"Night, Sam,"
"Night, Mugs."
Catherine disconnected her call and speed-dialed Grissom's house.
"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered after four rings.
"Sara, it's Catherine. Grissom is at the Rampart at Sam's office."
"What?" Sara said, turning on the bedside light and seeing she was alone.
"Here is Sam's private number. He's waiting for your call."
"Wait, wait let me get…okay go ahead." Sara said, quickly writing the phone number on the pad on the nightstand.
"Got it?"
"Yes, thanks, Catherine. Talk to you later." Sara said, hanging up.
"Oh you bet you will," Catherine said to the dead phone.
Sam had taken the glass from Grissom's hand and put it on the table. He thought about moving him to a prone position and then decided just to see what would happen.
The phone rang, waking Grissom and startling Sam.
"Speak,"
"This is Sara Sidle, Mr. Braun, is Gil there?"
"Yeah, let me put him on with you. Grissom, it's Sara," Sam said, handing him the phone.
Grissom took the phone from Sam, sitting up, his head resting on the meat of his left hand.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi, are you okay?" Sara asked, her voice soft as well.
"I'm sorry, I just want things to be the way they were before he came back into my life."
"Gil, are you okay?"
"Yeah, tired and mixed up, maybe, but basically fine."
"Okay, listen to me, please sweetheart. It's late and you have to be up in a few hours. I think you should stay with Sam and sleep there."
Grissom looked at his Rolex and realized she was right.
"Okay, I have appointments all day. I should be home around six."
"Do you have your phone with you?"
Grissom felt at his belt line.
"Yes,"
"Okay, give the phone back to Sam. I love you, Gil, please don't forget that."
"I love you Sara. You are my anchor." Grissom said, before handing the phone to Sam.
"Hello?"
"Sam, he has a nine o'clock physical to get him reinstated at work. No food or drink after midnight."
"Well it's four and we should forget that rule. I had to give him a bourbon to settle him down."
"Oh, well, remind him when you wake him and he'll tell Steven."
"Got it, got to get the Kid horizontal. I'll have him call you when he wakes up."
"Thanks again, Sam."
"No problem, Sara."
Sam closed his phone and looked at Grissom.
"Let's go, Kid; shoes off, jacket off, glasses off, cell phone off; nap time."
Slowly Grissom complied with the orders. He lay down on the sofa and soon was asleep. Sam walked to the foyer outside his office.
"Lou, if I'm not in, Grissom must be awake at eight-thirty. No food or drink; he's headed for a physical."
"Yes, sir."
