A/N: To begin with, this chapter is slightly different from my previous chapters. I hope you all like it! And also, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or respond to this fic. It makes me happy to know that someone other than myself is enjoying this. As for your comments: wraiths-angel and odeepblue, you'll see what happens to Grissom! dark-girl-faith-sidle, to answer your question, Nick didn't want to be across from Sara, because he is embarrassed that she knows about his feelings for her. Thanks for your question, though! CSI3SidleGSR, at least you tried your trust fall! I chickened out, and I regret it, to this day! RJ kid, thank you for your kind comments! I hope that this chapter does not disappoint. somebody101, my thoughts exactly (about the trust thing). Thanks for reading! The Swedhis alias fan, as long as people keep reading, and as long as I still have things to write, I'll keep on writing this fic! Out of the fics that I've written, it's one of my favorites! anneruhland, thank you for reading, and for your comment! And The Lovely Desdemona, as always, thank you for your suggestion. Oh, and snoring will continue in future chapters! I just kept running out of room for i!
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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS. The quotes all came from: www. heartquotes. net / fear. Html (without the spaces!).
Title: Trust
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Trust Falls
Up on the platform, Grissom anxiously rubbed his beard, still facing away from the rest of the waiting criminalists. I don't want to do this, and I'm not going to, he told himself. Not after what happened last time.
"Uh, Grissom?" Max hesitantly asked. "Is there a problem?"
"No," Grissom immediately replied, still remaining completely still.
"Then why are you still standing up there?" the guide persisted, screwing his face up in confusion.
"I was trying to figure something out in my head, and I forgot to fall backwards," Grissom calmly explained, his hands at his sides, rather than across his chest. Closing his eyes, he tried to take one deep breath after another, hoping to alleviate some of the tension and fear coursing through his body.
"You're nervous, aren't you?" Catherine kindly asked.
"No," Grissom again stated. "I was trying to figure something out in my head, and I just forgot to fall." Didn't I just say that?
"I don't think you're telling the truth," Greg shook his head from side to side, staring up at his supervisor in wonderment. "You're definitely afraid."
"No, I am not," Grissom repeated for the third time in as many moments.
"It's okay to be scared," Warrick shrugged, squinting up at Grissom. "It happens to everyone."
"Except," Nick cleared his throat, a slightly confused look on his face. "I don't understand. Don't you trust us to catch you?"
Sara immediately shot Nick a look, narrowing her eyes at his comment. "Of course he trusts us," she assured him. "Don't you, Grissom?" she asked, turning her gaze to study him. Why won't you turn around to look at us? Are you embarrassed about this? Hell, I've already had problems with several different obstacles, and Warrick had a rough time with the last one. There is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.
But Grissom did not reply to Sara, instead choosing to bow his head in order to stare down at the ground by his feet.
"Gil?" Catherine questioned him, her own face mirroring Nick's confused expression. "Why don't you trust us? We would never let you fall," she frowned. After six years of working with us, you seriously don't believe that we would keep you safe? I think that we would all do anything in our power to protect you.
Greg blinked, not entirely sure how to take Grissom's silence. But I don't understand, he wanted to say, clearing his throat. We're your team; your family. Why don't you believe us, when we tell you that you'll be fine? At least with Warrick, his accident was his own fault, and Sara just, Greg swallowed. Sara panicked because we touched her.
Damn, Warrick thought. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the great Gil Grissom not trusting any of us. What does that say about me, and my trustworthiness?
Do you not trust me, either? Sara wanted to ask him. Because I thought that you trusted me with your life. Actually, I thought that you trusted all of us with your life. Sighing, Sara again looked up at him. "Grissom, we won't let you fall; honest."
I've trusted you with my life in the past, so… why don't you trust me with yours? Nick sadly thought, taking Grissom's reaction extremely personally. "You just… lean back, and we'll catch you," he spoke up. "Nothin' to it, Grissom."
"The hardest part is doing it backwards, Gil," Catherine told him, her hands on her hips. "But you can do this; you've done worse."
"Hell," Warrick gave him a slight smile, even though Grissom was still facing away from everyone. "You've processed a DB after it's been sitting out in the desert for over seventy-two hours," he pointed out. "This is nothing, compared to that."
"Uh-huh," Greg tried to encourage him. "'Never let the fear of striking out get in your way,'" he announced.
"Hey, man," Nick grinned. "Babe Ruth? Excellent."
Grissom, still not facing his team, once again nervously rubbed his beard. "That isn't the problem," he finally admitted.
"Well what is the problem, then?" Warrick prompted him, squinting up at the back of his supervisor's head. "Because I know that we sure as hell won't let anything happen to you."
Grissom sighed, finally turning around to look at everyone. "'Fear is only as deep as the mind allows,'" he quoted an old Japanese proverb. "And unfortunately, my fear of being dropped goes all the way back to the 1960s," he told everyone, lowering himself to the very edge of the platform, and sitting down. "Although I don't typically like to share personal information about myself, you all deserve an explanation; and lucky for you, I remember the incident like it was yesterday."
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The Grissom Residence, early 1960s
Seven-year-old Gilbert Grissom sat in front of his family's only television set, rapturously studying the characters on "Car 54, Where Are You?" Sitting cross-legged in front of the screen, his entire attention focused on the antics of Toody and Muldoon, he didn't even notice his mother walk into the room, until she was tapping him on the back.
Gilbert, she signed, once she had his undivided attention. Did you already do your homework? Although only in first grade, Grissom was already starting to show his intellect, taking advanced classes in most of his subjects.
Yes, Mother, Grissom signed back. I finished my science in a couple of minutes; Mrs. Reece told us to find five leafs, and trace them on a piece of a paper, creating a mini-guidebook. I found ten leafs, and dissected each one of them down to their smallest parts, in order to better document their appearances.
Grissom's mother raised an eyebrow, staring down at her son. How can you dissect a leaf? She wanted to know.
Simple! You just pull them apart at the stems, he explained. And then you can get good images of the individual fibers, he slowly signed, proud of himself for his creativity, and for his dedication to science.
Grissom's mother nodded, instantly looking up, as she noticed lights flashing—her own personalized doorbell—in the living room. Gilbert, can you please get the door? She asked her young son, who immediately ran off to do as she asked.
Cautiously opening the door, Grissom stuck his head outside, a flicker of excitement appearing on his face when he processed who was actually standing in front of him. "Hi!" he eagerly greeted Peter Simmons and Mike Walters, two kids from his class. "What are you guys doing here?" Mike immediately snickered, frowning, when Pete elbowed him in the side. Although Grissom noticed the exchange, he chose to ignore it, as it wasn't every day that someone his own age showed up on his doorstep, looking for him.
"We, uh," Peter grinned at Grissom. "We're going to go fly kites down by the beach, and we wanted to know if you wanted to come along with us? If your mom will let you out of the house, that is," he glanced at Mike, who was once again snickering.
"I'll go check with her. Wait here, please!" Grissom happily told them both, running into the kitchen, and excitedly tapping his mother's shoulder in order to get her attention. Mom, he signed. Two kids from school are outside, and they want me to go fly kites with them. Can I go? Please? He asked, "Car 54" already forgotten. They're going down to the beach, he anxiously continued. But I'll be careful, I promise! It's a two minute walk! Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?
Grissom's mother thought about it for a moment, tempted to say no; although they lived in an extremely safe neighborhood, the beach was still not their backyard, and she really did not want him out of her sight. But that being said, it wasn't every day that someone showed up at the door, wanting to play with her son. Okay, she finally acquiesced. But put some sunscreen on, and be careful!
Grissom was already out of the kitchen, before she had the chance to tell him to have fun.
"What took you so long?" Mike asked him, when Grissom finally emerged from his home, five minutes later.
"Uh… sorry," Grissom hesitated, his face instantly flushing. "I had to get my kite," he explained, holding it up to show them. "And I had to put some sunscreen on. Where are your kites—?" he started to ask, although he did not finish his thought. It's probably best not to annoy them, he told himself.
Mike rolled his eyes, glancing at Peter, before both boys took off at a run.
"Hey, wait up!" Grissom called after them, trying to keep up. "I can't run that fast!" he panted, as they rounded a corner at the end of his street, still heading toward the beach.
"What's the matter, Gil?" Peter suddenly stopped, waiting for him to catch up. "Haven't you ever run before? You're slower than a girl!" he taunted him.
"And you have a sissy name!" Mike added, standing beside Peter, an evil look on his face.
Grissom stopped running, his smile slowly fading. Why are they being so mean to me? He asked himself. I thought that they wanted to play with me, and I thought that they wanted to be my friend! He swallowed, slightly confused. Although Peter and Mike had never asked him to play with them before, Grissom had hoped that they would truly allow him to be a part of the "cool kids club." "I can run faster," he tried to assure them, taking a step toward them.
"Oh, yeah?" Mike asked the seven-year old Grissom. "Then let's see you go!" he smirked, grinning, as the little boy took off down the sidewalk.
"See?" Grissom called back over his shoulder, stopping one hundred yards later. "See? I can run fast!" he pointed out.
Peter and Mike exchanged a glance that Grissom could not see, before breaking out into fits of laughter. "Okay, Gil," Pete agreed. "You can run. Come on back!" he grinned.
Grissom, slightly relieved that he had proven his point, trotted back to his two new friends. Now they'll like me, he reasoned. I can keep up with them, so they have to like me! "So… are we still going to the beach?" he nervously asked, glancing down at the kite clutched tightly in one of his tiny fists.
"Nah," Peter shrugged, staring over at Grissom. "Actually, Gil, we need your help," he admitted.
Grissom shifted from foot to foot, anxiously running his free hand through his hair. "Okay," he sadly mumbled. "What do you need? Do you need help with your homework?" Now I know why they wanted me to play; they just wanted me to do their homework for them.
"No," Peter chuckled. "It's nothing like that. But look up," he ordered Grissom.
Grissom slowly looked up into the branches of a tall tree, spying something caught up at the very top. "Is that a kite?" he cautiously asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"Uh-huh!" Mike grinned at him. "It's my kite, and it's stuck. I need you to climb up there in order to get it for me!"
Grissom cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the entire conversation. "I'm not allowed to climb trees," he quietly informed the two other boys, staring down at the ground. And besides, I really don't want to climb to the top of the tree.
"C'mon, Gil," Peter persisted. "Just go up there, get the kite, and we'll help you down! It'll be fun, I promise." Grissom swept his gaze up the tree again, frowning at the distance that he would need to climb in order to reach the trapped kite. "And once you come down," Peter continued. "We'll go to the beach, and have some fun."
Grissom slowly conceded, as he gently set his kite down on the ground. Glancing at the tree, he hesitantly touched the trunk with one hand, before leaping for the nearest branch. Grabbing it in his sweaty palms, he very carefully pulled himself up, swinging both legs over the branch, and sitting down on it for a very brief moment.
"Can't you go any faster?" Mike complained, shielding his eyes against the glare from the sun, and watching Grissom's slow progress. "My grandmother can climb a tree faster than you can!"
Grissom quietly nodded, standing up, and continuing to climb higher. Five minutes, and two cuts later, he reached the top of the tree, dislodging the kite, and sending it to the ground. "Got it?" he asked his two new friends.
"Got it, Gil! Good job!" Mike happily replied, as he gingerly picked up his kite, looking it over for any damage. "But you're wasting time! Let's go!"
"Okay!" Grissom smiled at Mike's praise, before starting to climb back down the tree.
"Just jump, Gil," Peter mumbled, when Grissom was finally half-way back down. "I want to go to the beach, and it's taking you forever!"
"I'll just be a minute more," Grissom calmly told him, grunting, as he hung from one of the branches, trying to step on the one just below him. "Just one minute more," he repeated, as his hands scraped against the rough bark of the tree, causing him to gasp in pain as little pinpricks of blood appeared on one of his palms.
"Just jump," Peter repeated. "We'll catch you," he added, as he and Mike held their arms out in front of themselves as if to prove their point. "It will take you less time to jump, and you'll stop getting hurt," he tried to reason with him.
Grissom slowly nodded, mulling this over. "Do you promise to help catch me, though?" he asked, glancing down at the ground. "I'm not that far up… I should be okay, right?"
"Of course you will," Peter frowned. "We're strong kids!"
"Uh-huh," Mike agreed with him, glancing up at Grissom. "Don't you trust us?"
Grissom hesitantly nodded his head yes, before releasing his death hold on the tree, and stepping to the edge of the branch. "Okay," he mumbled. "One, two, three—" he jumped.
Just as Grissom was saying the word 'three,' however, Peter and Mike glanced at one another, taking a step backward, and laughing hysterically, as the young boy fell to the ground.
Landing on top of his wrist, Grissom howled in pain, as he heard the bone snap.
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Trust Falls
"So, let me get this straight," Warrick was the first person to speak up, after listening to Grissom tell his story. "Those little bastards let you fall on purpose?"
Grissom slowly shook his head yes, staring down at the ground. "I jumped, and they purposely moved backwards so that I would fall. I ended up going to the hospital, because my wrist was shattered in three different places."
"What an asinine thing to do," Catherine sighed. And yet, now I understand why you are reluctant to make new friends. You wanted to fit in with your classmates, and they used that fact to ridicule, and even hurt, you; essentially, they burned you. But we're not like them, Catherine mused. We would never let you get hurt.
"Did they say why they did it, Grissom?" Greg quietly asked, not wanting to force Grissom to relive an embarrassing situation in his life, but at the same time, very curious. "Were they just trying to get back at you or something?"
Grissom cleared his throat, his face slightly reddening.
"What is it, Gris?" Warrick asked.
"They said that I was too big," he informed everyone. "And they didn't want me to break their arms."
Nick's eyes rose in confusion, as he stared up at his supervisor. "You do know that you're thin, right?" he quizzically asked. "I mean, you're not going to hurt any of us."
"I know that," Grissom unconvincingly replied. "But just to be on the safe side, I don't believe that I should complete this activity."
Sara slowly shook her head no, glancing up at Grissom. "You have to do it, Grissom. I mean, you don't have to do it, but you should. Do you trust us?" she quietly asked him.
Grissom hesitated, his eyes still on the ground.
"Grissom?" Sara's voice once again calmly prodded him. When he looked up at her, she tried to smile at him. "Do you trust us?"
"Yes," he cautiously told her. "But—"
"But nothing, Gil," Catherine interrupted him. "Sara is right. If you trust us, then complete this activity. You need to learn that we're a team, and that we're not going to let anything happen to you."
"Ditto on what the ladies just told you," Greg flashed him a crooked smile.
"You'll be fine, Gris," Warrick tried to reassure him. "Really."
"You've been there for us in the past, Grissom," Nick quietly spoke up. "So now let us get you through this," he added, as he motioned for everyone to take their assigned places by the obstacle.
"Okay," Grissom sighed, slowly getting to his feet, and once again shuffling to the very edge of the platform. Hesitantly turning around, he took a deep breath, moving his arms so that they were crossed against his chest. "Ready?" he whispered.
"Okay," the five criminalists and one guide seriously replied.
"… Falling," Grissom swallowed.
"Fall away!" they told him, bracing their arms and legs to ensure that they would not drop him.
Grissom took one more deep breath, before shuddering. "Falling," he repeated himself.
Everyone exchanged anxious glances, wondering whether or not he would actually go through with the task. "Fall away!" they again chanted together.
With one more deep breath, Grissom forced his body to stiffen, falling backwards into the waiting arms of his colleagues, who as promised, easily caught him.
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TO BE CONTINUED
