Chapter 8: The Day he made a Bad Decision…or Two
A/N: Here is the second to last chapter. I hope you guys like it. I wasn't too fond of it, but I'd like you to tell me what to think. The next chapter has been planed since chapter 1. It's the day he became a CSI. After this, I'm starting a Sara/Grissom story. Despite my wishes, I still don't own CSI. Please enjoy!
It was midnight on August 17, 1977. It wasn't really considered a special day for most people. Gil Grissom barely considered it special, although he really should have. It was the day of his twenty first birthdays, and he would like more than to have it pass unnoticed. His dream way to celebrate his birthday would be to curl up under his covers, and pretend he didn't exist.
Gil would like very much not to exist. He did not need another reminder of the fact that he was a total failure in every aspect of his life. Around campus, he was a known as somewhat a loner. It was a reputation that he had somewhat earned. He avoided forming relationships with new people. Ever since his girlfriend had died, it had been too painful. He didn't want to lose anyone else.
Gil would have been totally content to ignore his birthday. He was stressed enough as it was. He had no social life, no one to talk to and he wasn't doing as well as he had hoped in school. His roommates were always pushing him to find some action. The campus was pretty quiet right before classes started up again, so his roommates used his birthday as a perfect excuse to take him out.
It wasn't the going out that was the problem. He knew exactly where his roommates Eugene and Nate would take him. They had changed a lot over their years at college. They always wanted him to go and pick up girls with him. Gil didn't want any girls. He wanted Sara, but she was gone, and he had accepted that. For his 21st birthday, his friends were planning on taking him to a bar.
Theoretically, he didn't really have anything against bars. They were just places, after all. Nate and Eugene thought a bar would be a great place to pick up girls. Gil wasn't so sure. Bars were where you got alcohol, and alcohol made people do stupid things. He had never drunk alcohol himself, as until now, he was not legally able to do so. All he knew, he knew from his roommates' experiences.
His roommates didn't mind breaking the law and they drank occasionally. They even went to bars, using fake ids they had made themselves. Often, Gil thought of turning them in, but then he remembered that they were the only ones who even noticed him. That didn't mean that he wanted to join in their exploits.
Gil didn't much like the idea of stumbling into his room at 4 a.m., unable to see straight. The headaches his friends described after nights of partying were enough to turn him off alcohol forever. Another thing he didn't like was not being in total control of himself. Alcohol affected the brain, and Gil didn't like the thought of doing things he would not normally do.
It was what was expected of him, though. At twenty one, you were expected to take your first drink. That was just the way it was. He didn't really have much choice. As much as he tried to tell himself differently, he was afraid. He wasn't sure of what exactly. Maybe it was because he would like nothing better than to curl up in his bed and disappear. A sudden thought occurred to him that made him feel slightly better. He would do what his friends wanted him to do.
He would drink until he didn't remember why he was drinking anymore. Drowning his problems in a nice drink sounded wonderful right about now. Gil longed to forget, to numb his mind. The euphoria that came along with it was an added plus.
He got out of his bead. As usual, he was in the room along. Gil hoped that Eugene and Nate wouldn't be out yet. He went to the living room of the dormitory that they shared. Luckily, his roommates were there. They beamed when they saw him. He sat down next to him; exactly sure of what he was going to do.
" So, you decided that our idea was the best for your birthday bash?" Eugene asked, with a smile.
Gil took a deep breath. "Yup, so you guys leave the way."
Gil followed his roommates to Nate's car. Nate drove, and Gil and Eugene got in the back. Gil didn't know exactly what bar they were going to, but he didn't really care. As long as they had plenty of boos, it was good enough for him. They stopped in front of a dingy looking place called Kitty Cat. Gil didn't even want to ask about the name.
They got out, and walked in confidently. Gil figured that they went here all the time. The big burly guy guarding the door didn't even ask them for any identification. He did ask Gil, however. Gil didn't really look twenty one. If you asked someone how old he was, they might guess seventeen.
When Gil showed the security guard his ID, the guy smiled, and said gruffly, "Happy birthday kid."
He nodded in acknowledgement and walked inside. The Kitty Cat was a very busy place. There were people everywhere, talking and laughing. Loud music was blaring, and some people were dancing. It was less of a bar, and more of a club. Gil was reminded of exactly why he would have preferred to stay home.
Eugene had already ushered him to the bar, and told him to sit. First nervously looking around him, Gil sat down. Eugene ordered him a drink that he hadn't even heard of. His friend at least seemed to be having a good time. He sat there with the drink in his hands. He thought it was a rum and coke. What it was didn't really matter though.
He stared at the brown colored liquid for a while without drinking. The ice cubes sat there, and he stirred them around with a straw. Suddenly he wondered what the hell he was doing. "Come on!" said Nate emphatically. He was already well into his own drink. "You're actually legal now. Live a little!"
The atmosphere at the club seemed to sway a little. It was all a blur of sound and colour. The drink sitting in front of him looked a little more appealing. He picked it up and paused with it in front of his lips. Hesitantly, he took a sip.
He didn't know what he had expected, but this was not it. It was…well…there was no other word for it except horrible. Eugene was looking at him expectantly. He forced a smile and said, "It's great!" His friend clapped him on the back and went to join Nate in the crowd of chattering girls. He left Gil sitting by the bar alone, lost in his own thoughts.
With his friends basically ignoring him, he didn't know what made him keep drinking. It still tasted just as horrible as ever. Still, he kept drinking. When he was finished, he ordered another of whatever he was having. Gil tried desperately to think, but his thoughts became all clouded and muddled. He realized that that was exactly what he wanted; not to think anymore.
Gil was always one to over think things. It was a gift, as well as a curse. It was a gift in the sense that it helped him a lot in his school work. It was the way he almost always got almost perfect results. The curse side of it was stronger these days. Gil couldn't analyze every little bit of every bad thing in his life. Even though it had been nearly 3 years, he had never stopped going over Sara's death. He could no longer escape the fact that it was all his fault.
Every way he looked at it, he came to the same conclusion. If it hadn't been for him, Sara would still be alive. He knew it was true, and there was no way he could escape it. If he hadn't been so selfish, if he had at least call her, she would still be alive. He would be the one driving that car, not her. He was the one who should have died. He knew this, and it ate him up inside very day.
That was what he was trying so desperately to drown out in alcohol. It wasn't working. Instead of forgetting, the memories were becoming sharper and more depressing. No wonder it was called a depressant. The more he drank, the more the room seemed to sway and spin. That didn't deter him from his unhappy thoughts suddenly brought to the surface.
The more he drank, the clearer everything became. He didn't deserve to live. He had basically killed Sara, and someone as horrible as that shouldn't live. He pushed away the glass of frothy liquid. It had certainly succeeded at making him very tipsy. It had also made him see the truth as well; he was a horrible person. He walked over to wear he saw Nate; or more precisely two of him.
Gil was having a bit of difficulty walking. It took all of his effort to put one foot in front of the other. He wobbled a bit as he moved slowly forward. He would have fallen if he had not grabbed on to the counter. Finally, he reached where Nate and two very beautiful girls stood. Nate didn't wait for him to speak, but got to work right away.
"Gilly – 'ole buddy, 'ole pal- this 'ere some nice ladies, name", said Nate. Gil couldn't help but notice that his words were very slurred. He was probably drunk. Gil reminded himself, so was he.
"It's Tricia", the tall blond clinging to his arm supplied. The other, a curvy brunette merely giggled. Gil found it hard to form words to reply to this. It was increasingly difficult for him to form any words at all. The scene before him continued to swim strangely before him. He wasn't sure why he was there. What he was sure about was that he needed to leave.
The dance floor was nothing more than a whirl of shapes and colours. There were people in every direction he looked. The music blared loudly in his ears. "I gotta go Nate…I gotta go", he said, nodding his head. This wasn't the place for him. This club was for people who wanted to have a good time. He didn't deserve to have a good time.
Nate rummaged around in his pocket for something. He pulled out his car keys, and threw them towards Gil. Of course, the keys clattered to the floor. Gil knew that he shouldn't be driving at the moment. The logical part of his brain was screaming that to him. Unfortunately, the logical part of his brain didn't have much say anymore.
He made his way to the door. Eugene yelled goodbye to him. He shakily waved back. He knew that he really shouldn't be doing what he was about to do. All the movies he had ever seen in high school health class were quickly coming back to him. His mind was no longer working rationally. He thought only about Sara, and how he had failed her. It was an obsession, taking up all of his other thoughts.
This new found obsession had made him a little reckless. All he knew was that he had to do this, and screw the consequences. His intention in drinking, today on his birthday, had been to forget. He wanted all of his complicated feelings to fade and blur until nothing made sense anymore. Instead, the truth had never been clearer to him. He had caused Sara's death, and he had to pay.
He sped along the highway, going much faster than the speed limit. Gil knew exactly where he was going. He didn't know exactly what he would accomplish by going there, but he knew that that was where he needed to go. Driving became a bit more difficult for him than it usually was. Not that driving had ever been easy. He had nearly failed his driving test. Now, even going in a straight line was difficult.
It was a miracle that he wasn't pulled over by the cops. He made it there in record time, even considering how fast he was going. To the casual observer, this stretch of road was no different from any other. To Gil, this stretch of road meant everything. It was where he had lost not only her true love, but really, his love for life. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver, probably no different than him. He was sitting where she had lost her life.
He didn't really know why he was there. Was it to feel closer to the love he had lost? Gil didn't really think so. He had felt much too close to her for the past two and a half years. He wanted to distance herself from Sara and this stretch of road as much as possible. He wanted nothing more than to be free and escape.
If only he could just think. His thoughts were all jumbled up in his head. He couldn't make heads or tails of them. All he could think of was Sara's death and how he needed to be punished. He looked at the darkened winding road in front of him. It was 4 o' clock in the morning, and sill it was very dark. There wasn't a single person for miles. It was deserted there, just as he liked it.
Gil didn't really want any witnesses. Around the corner was a pristine lake, across which was a bridge. Gil knew that bridge very well. More specifically, he knew what was on the other side of the bridge. That was where Sara's parents live. He was pretty sure they still lived there, but he hadn't spoken to them since before Sara had died. He had to avoid them at her funeral.
He toyed briefly with the idea of going over and seeing them. What could he possibly say to them? Sara's parents had been nice, but Gil was sure they wouldn't receive him well after this long, especially at this hour. He tried to imagine their reaction. Sara's father had been a strict man of few words. Gil could imagine him doing nothing more than glaring. Sara's mother had been a little nicer, but he was afraid that when she saw him, she would burst into tears. He had killed her daughter after all.
He dismissed the idea almost as soon as he thought of it. It would be much to painful. He knew that they blamed him, possibly even more than he blamed himself. It was her parents' house that Sara was going to the day she died. He was so close to her, and close was exactly where he hated to be. He could feel her, watching him, judging him. He had to get away from it.
It took all of his effort to stumble out of the car. Gil nearly tripped over his own feet in his efforts to get away from his car. Normally he would care that he was just leaving the car unattended. He didn't care today. Looking at his feet, he walked an uncertain path away from the car. He had an idea where he was going, but he wasn't sure exactly what he would do once he got there.
It had started to rain. The cool water felt good on his ski, with was now hot and sweaty. A light drizzle quickly turned into a heavy downpour. Gil found himself not minding as he continued on. It took him less than five minutes to get where he was going. He almost passed it because he was staring at his feet the whole time. His feet had guided him to the bridge that he had often crossed with Sara. His mind was assaulted with memories of happy times and of sad. Because of the haze still in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to cry.
He held onto the railing of the bridge, his teeth chattering. It was freezing in the rain.. The cold went very deep, through his clothes and his skin until it felt like it was within him. He shivered violently. The wind hit his back, causing him to stumble forward a little. He grabbed onto the railing just in time. He was forced to look at the water that was churning now, because of the storm. It was strangely hypnotizing.
It brought back a lot of things he had kept buried. Just staring at that water brought all of his guilt to the surface. His guilt bubbled inside him just like this stream. He held onto the railing of the bridge as if it was an anchor keeping him there. He wondered what would happen if he just let go. That had been his friends' goal for him tonight, to have him let go. In truth, he wanted to let go of all the fear, the guilt and the pain.
He couldn't do it.
Theoretically, if he let go without stepping away, he would probably fall in. He wondered how bad that would be. To stop thinking, to cease to exist, that would be pure bliss. His mind would be a blank, and thoughts like this would never plague him again. Gil was seconds away from jumping. In that moment, ending it all seemed to solve everything. His failure, his loneliness and his guilt, all of that would be gone.
Without really knowing what he was doing, He had stepped gingerly over the railing and now teetered on the edge. The rain, and the fact that he was still a bit drunk, made it difficult to keep his hold. He swayed dangerously along the edge. It was a metaphor for his life. The past 2 ½ years were spent in between being thoroughly depressed, and times of laughter and joy.
For a moment, he was seriously considering jumping. That water would wash away all of his problems, just like it washed away the stones off the shore. He almost did jump, in fact. He was seconds away from taking the plunge and ending everything. All of a sudden he stopped. The reason he didn't do it, was because he just realized what Sara would say.
If she were there, she would set him straight at once. Sara would make him realize the stupid things he was doing. She would never blame him for the accident. Although he wasn't thinking very clearly at the moment, he knew that that was true. There was nothing that he could have done differently. That didn't bring Sara back, but it was still a comforting thought.
He pulled himself over the railing again, and hurried of the bridge. The rain was pouring and the wind was howling, but Gil hadn't felt better in weeks. It was as if a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It wasn't his fault. Everything became extremely clear to him in an instant. He deserved to live just as much as the next person. He deserved to live just as much as Sara had. Bad things happened all too often to good people, and he needed to expect that.
Gil never knew how he had gotten back to the car. All he knew was that very shortly after, he was sitting in the car sheltered from the rain. He watched the rain beat down on the car with dazed eyes. Gil buried his head in his arms and rested it on the back of the leather seats. That headache that he had often observed had begun. He tried to block everything out and focus on his new liberated feeling.
Gil had just realized something; two things in fact. One was that drinking was bad. He knew that already, but his experience today had proved it. His vow to never drink again was a very easy one. His other realization was a simple one as well. Life sucks.