Title: Last Chance - Chapter 20
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own them. No infringement intended. Please don't sue me.
Authors' note: I'm soooo sorry for the last chapter! You have no idea. My muse loves Grissom . . . I swear it. He also just really likes to play with his feelings and make the man show emotion. This one's not so much better. But it needed to be done . . . to fit the rest of the story. I've rewritten two versions of the last chapter and this one . . . nothing else fits the same. Forgive me? Anyway, keep reviewing and I hope you like it. Go ahead, flame me if you want to... :(
Grissom shut his phone and just held it in his hand, staring at it. Sara must have had a really bad hour since he left her. Or something. She'd been so happy over lunch that he was sure they'd be ok. She had even sounded pretty sure that she was staying in Vegas. Now, suddenly, she was leaving again and telling him it was all just a mistake. How could it possibly have been a mistake? Nothing in his life had felt so right.
He wanted to go to her. Talk to her. Figure out what the hell was wrong. Because until he knew what was wrong, he couldn't fix it. And damn if this wasn't one thing he needed to fix. He'd gone from walking on air to the pits of hell, in one four-minute phone call.
He had a meeting to get to with the Fina's lawyer. He was guessing that his presence wasn't mandatory, but he knew Sara would be there. And maybe he'd get a chance to corner her . . . talk to her.
The drive to the precinct was horrible. Him playing out bad scenarios in his head. Images of her leaving.
Damn her! Then he quickly corrected himself. He had no right to be mad. He did have a right to be upset, hurt, downright annoyed - and an entire list of other nonaggressive emotions, but he couldn't be mad. That emotion wouldn't do either of them any good.
He pulled up to the police station a little early, which was good because he wanted to talk with Jim. Entering the building, he stopped at the desk and asked for Brass. He was told he was in his office.
Grissom walked back and knocked heavily on the door.
"Come on in . . . " he opened the door. "Grissom, you're a little early. The lawyer won't be here for a while yet."
"Yeah, I know, I wanted to talk to you about . . . " He shoved his hands into his pockets. "...Sara."
Brass grinned. "Yeah, I heard you guys were - uh- getting along."
Grissom sighed. "No, not so much. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about."
Brass motioned for him to sit. "What's up?"
"I don't know. It was all good Jim . . . And then she had a meeting with Ecklie - now she is telling me it was all is mistake."
Brass looked at him with eyebrows raised. "What was a mistake . . . exactly?"
Grissom rolled his eyes. "We didn't . . . " He waved his hands in the air, " . . . if that's what your asking."
"Well it must have been something . . . "
"It was . . . is . . . good."
"What did you do?"
"Oh, that's just it. I don't think it's anything I did wrong . . . I wish it were . . . then I could fix this." He looked down at his hands. "She's leaving the lab, she's leaving Vegas . . . and I think she has already left me. How can I fail so miserably at a relationship . . . this relationship . . . when it hasn't even really started yet?"
Brass shrugged. "I dunno, buddy. But you're right. I don't think it's you she wants to leave. I think she's trying to leave herself. And whether or not you see it, you've always been a big part of her."
Before Grissom could respond, a knock came at the door. Without waiting for an answer the door opened and a man stuck his head in. "Sorry for interrupting. I'm Jay Proust, Delanea and Andrew Fina's lawyer. I'm looking for Jim Brass . . . "
"You found him . . . " Brass shot a look at Grissom. "Please, come in . . . if you could just have a seat . . . we still seem to be one member short . . . "
"No, you're not. I'm here." Sara breezed into the room. "Sorry I'm late. I had some paperwork to fill out."
Mr. Proust shook her hand. "Quite all right. I, myself, just arrived."
Sara smiled softly at him as she took the seat next to his, reinforcing the idea that he hadn't done anything. She wasn't mad at him, she was mad at the world. Whatever was going on in her head, it wasn't his fault.
"Ok, so, why are we here?" Brass looked expectantly at Proust.
"To discuss Madelaine Fina - as you are all aware, she is an orphan. But quite a rich one. Her father had money invested all over the place. In addition to being the only survivor of her family, she's also the beneficiary for both life insurance policies. In the end, I'd say that little girl is worth around twenty million dollars."
Grissom shook his head. "And why are you telling us this?"
"That's actually not why we're here. Mr. Grissom, if there is somewhere else you'd rather be, yours and Miss Sidle's presences here are not necessary . . . I'm not the one who requested you be here."
Sara leaned forward. "We care about that little girl, Mr. Proust. Please, go on."
"Ok well, all her inheritance is going into an account until the day she turns 18. All of it. She will not have access to it, nor will anyone else, for her own protection."
"Ok . . . and your point?" Grissom didn't much care for lawyers.
"As the Fina's lawyer, and technically Madelaine's as well, I have full access to the money for the next twenty-four hours. Until it is routed into that account. This morning, I had a meeting with my bosses. We agreed unanimously to donate the money, to ensure that the little Ampress girl gets the treatment she needs. One tragedy is enough. The preventable death of a child, is not excusable when you have the resources to help."
In her excitement - or something - Sara grabbed Grissom's hand. "So, she'll be ok?" Proust nodded. "Oh thank God." She then seemed to notice that her hand was still gripping his, and she pulled away like she'd been burned. "And what about Maddie?"
"Her mother, Delanea, was the only child of two people who were also only children. As far as we can tell, she was the last branch of her family tree. Both parents died, in a car crash, when she was nineteen. Her father, Andrew, became the sole heir to their fortune when his mother passed away in 1998. As far as we know, neither one has family to place the child with so . . . "
Sara interrupted. "...she's going into the system."
"Yes, unfortunately."
Grissom cleared his throat. "Is that everything?"
"Yes I believe so."
"Ok then, it was nice to meet you Mr. Proust. You guys are doing a wonderful thing." Grissom stood and shook his hand. Turning to face Sara, "Miss Sidle? Can I have a word with you?" He hoped she heard the pleading in his voice. "In private . . . please?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why sure Dr. Grissom. I have a few things to do right now and I have to get going, but I can meet you in your office, at the lab, in about four hours."
Grissom nodded at her. He was taken aback that she had agreed. Shocked was actually a better word for what he felt. He walked out of the room as Sara stood, thanking Proust for everything.
He walked from the building to his car in a daze. He drove straight to the lab, once there he headed straight for his office. He shut the door behind him, sat at the desk, and put his head in his hands.
He sat like that for nearly a half hour until a sharp rap on his door made him jump. "It's open."
"Hey Gil, I heard . . . what's wrong?" Catherine was standing in the doorway with a frown on her face.
"I don't want to talk about it Catherine. It's been a long day."
"Well, Sara was sure in a better mood. She was practically radiating happiness this morning."
That hit a raw nerve. "And trust me Cath, so was I. Until she decided it was still as good idea to leave Vegas. Hell, to leave Nevada probably." A painful chuckle escaped "Everyone thought I'd be the one to break her heart. Even I always figured it would happen that way . . . " He ran his fingers through his hair. "But turns out . . . I'm the one who ended up broken."
Catherine came over and sat across from him. "Gil, I can guarantee you one thing. If you're broken - she's broken. I know what I saw in her this morning. And when I asked, she didn't deny it. A girl wouldn't . . . no, couldn't, shut that off in an hour. Most of us can't shut it off in a month . . . a year . . . " She smiled "Trust me, I know."
Grissom put his head back into his hands and his next words were muffled. "That doesn't change anything."
"Gil, look at me." He raised his head just a little. "If it's not you, then it's something else. And you're the one person she'd talk to."
"Thanks Catherine . . . she's coming here . . . to talk . . . I hope. How do I not mess this up?"
She reached over and squeezed his arm. "Just be yourself, and be honest. That's the man she fell in love with. And that's the only man she wants." She got up. "You look pitiful Grissom. I hope she stays - for your sake. You deserve that."
He let out a low laugh. "That's what Sara said last night . . . maybe I deserve this pain too, for all the hurt I caused her . . . "
Catherine interrupted his thought. "No Gil. You don't. And neither does Sara."
"I know Catherine. Thanks again . . . "
As she left the room, he picked up a pile of reports. He might as well do something productive while he waited.
To Be Continued . . .