A/N: Thanks so very much to LiT who has listened to me whine my way through this chapter and to the lovely women who beta this mess. It wouldn't be half of what it is without them.
Disclaimer: If they were mine do you think I'd be writing fanfic?
Chapter 7
December 14, 2007
The determined glint in Catherine's eye told Grissom she didn't intend to let him forget about breakfast with the team. She strode into his office, sank into a chair, crossed her legs and stared at him until he raised his head to acknowledge her.
"What can I do for you, Catherine?" Grissom looked at her from over the top of his glasses and hoped that he could feign ignorance.
She gave a snort of laughter. "You will never convince me that you forgot our plans. Give it up."
He schooled his features into a blank mask. "I'm not trying to convince you of anything. And if you mean breakfast," he gestured at the stacks of paperwork that covered his desk, "I really don't have time."
"You hate paperwork, Gil." Catherine smiled at his discomfort. "Stop trying to weasel out of this."
Grissom's eyebrow rose and he nailed her with a glare. "I do not weasel," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. When she only continued to smile, he sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll be there. Now will you leave me alone?"
With a shake of her head, she pushed out of the chair. "Seven-thirty. Don't be late." She left him sitting behind his desk with his head bent over a report.
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Paperwork was, without a doubt, the bane of Gil Grissom's existence. Even Hodges and Greg combined were not nearly as trying, or tiring as the reports and requests and evaluations he was required to complete on a daily basis. He was positive that half of the trees felled in America every year were used to make paper for the LVPD.
A deep sigh escaped him as he closed another file and placed it on the stack in his outbox. Slowly, he removed his glasses and tossed them on his desk. Leaning back in his chair he rubbed his burning eyes. The only good thing about all the doubles he was working was that he had managed to stay even with his supervisory responsibilities, no matter how tedious he found them. Today they were more annoying than normal, because he couldn't keep his mind focused on the work in front of him. And it wasn't because he was thinking of Sara. Instead, his thoughts were on the phone calls he had made earlier in the week to the husbands of the four dead women from St. Rose.
To say that he was disappointed by the reactions he received would have been an understatement. To a man, they all declined to entertain the idea of foul play. Actually, one of the men hung up on him the moment he mentioned his reason for calling. He tried to put himself in their shoes but it wasn't easy. While his pain at Sara's departure consumed him, he held on to the hope that she would someday return. These men no longer had that hope. They had nothing. Instead, their worlds decimated by grief, they struggled to gain control of their once orderly lives. But while he couldn't bring back the hope they had lost, he could bring them justice.
A quick glance at his watch revealed that it was three-thirty in the morning. Studying the mess on his desk for a moment, Grissom pushed up out of the chair and grabbed his keys. He had just enough time to get out to Henderson, talk to the nurses at St. Rose and still meet the team for breakfast. With determination in his stride, he headed for his car.
He paused at the reception desk. "Hey, Judy." He smiled when she looked up. "I'll be in the field if anyone is looking for me."
Giving him a nervous grin, Judy replied, "Yes, sir." He nodded and turned away. He had only gotten about four steps away when she called out, "Dr. Grissom?"
Turning, he raised an eyebrow in question.
Judy's face was a startling crimson, and her voice came out with a nervous squeak. "Uh, how is…how is Sara, sir?"
The flicker of pain in his eyes was so brief that it could have almost been imagined. He cleared his throat before saying, "She's doing well, Judy. Thank you for asking."
Nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Judy said, "Please tell her I asked about her, sir."
"I'll do that." Grissom gave her a smile and a nod before turning and heading to his car.
The irony of his situation struck Grissom as he drove toward Henderson. Before, when nobody knew about his relationship with Sara, he saw her every day. He knew, or thought he did, when she was having a bad day or feeling especially playful. And nobody asked him how she was. Now, when she was six hundred miles away and he didn't know anything about how she was feeling, everybody looked to him for information. If it hadn't made him so sad, he might have laughed.
His musings were interrupted by the grumbling of his stomach. Quickly he searched his memory for the last time he had eaten and was surprised to realize it had been almost twenty hours since his last meal. Knowing he couldn't wait another four hours before he had something to eat, he started looking for a drive thru. Noticing a Dunkin' Donuts up ahead he decided to pull in. He drove up to the speaker and studied the menu before placing his order. As he began to pull forward to pick up his coffee and donuts he caught sight of a familiar car parked behind the building.
He considered parking and going inside when he saw two people exiting the building and crossing the lot. Neither of them noticed him. That was probably due to them being completely focused on one another.
Easing around to the pick-up window, he tried to keep his face averted. But he couldn't stop himself from looking at them in the rearview mirror. Even if he hadn't seen their faces, he would have known both of them anywhere. Jim Brass and Heather Kessler were currently standing comfortably close, beside what he assumed was Heather's car. And from the looks of things, this wasn't an accidental meeting. Unable to tear his eyes away from the couple behind him, Grissom didn't avert his gaze until Heather leaned in and pressed her lips to Jim's.
Suddenly, Jim's desire to protect the identity of his new girlfriend made much more sense.
Grissom pulled away from the window and a quiet chuckle escaped him. He had hidden his relationship with Sara out of fear of repercussions. He wouldn't want to be in Brass' shoes if news of this little indiscretion ever got out. Despite Heather's reasons, she had been convicted for nearly whipping a man to death. Of course, Grissom hadn't worried about the consequences when he had gone to her, out of friendship, when he thought she needed him. With a start, he wondered if that had been Jim's place even then.
He drove the few remaining blocks to the hospital sipping from the cup of coffee. When he took the first sinful bite of cruller, he thought about how Sara would shake her head and roll her eyes at his choice. She wouldn't say anything about his cholesterol or the few extra pounds around his middle. But she wouldn't have to say a word. He'd know just what she was thinking. With a smile of guilty pleasure and a vow to eat oatmeal at breakfast, he polished off both doughnuts in the ten minute ride.
Grissom pulled into a parking place and studied the building. Despite the name, which brought to mind a soaring stone edifice and stained glass windows, the hospital was ultra modern. The shape was boxy and impersonal with a lot of concrete and glass. Not sure why he had expected anything else in this day and age, Grissom gave a snort of laughter at his own folly. Taking a final sip of coffee, he picked up the file and his notebook from the passenger's seat and climbed out of the car before heading to the hospital entrance.
It took some careful explaining to get past the security guard in the lobby. While he was sure that if he was a patient he'd have been grateful for the way the rent-a-cop interrogated middle of the night visitors, at that moment he was more than a little irritated with the man. Finally gaining entrance to the hospital proper, Grissom took the elevator to the fifth floor.
The car stopped with a muted ding and the doors slid open. Grissom stepped out and glanced up and down the hallway, looking for the nurses' station. Spying the counter off on his right, he turned and walked in that direction, only to be stopped by a woman in burgundy scrubs exiting a room on his left.
Jumping back to keep from bumping in to her, Grissom said, "Excuse me."
Her hand flew up to cover her heart and she gave a yelp of surprise. "Where did you come from?" she gasped.
"The elevator," Grissom said, with a smile in his voice.
She was a short, curvy red head with brilliant green eyes and a warm smile. "Very funny, Mr…."
"Grissom." He stuck out his hand and said, "Gil Grissom. Las Vegas Crime Lab."
She clasped his hand with a firm grip and gave him a smile. She looked up at him through her lashes and said, "I'm Julia. How can I help you, Gil Grissom?"
As he extricated his hand, it vaguely registered with Grissom that she might be flirting with him, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. "I need to see the charge nurse."
Julia's smile faded a little and she gestured toward the nurses' station. "That would be Elizabeth. She should be at the desk. If not, someone there should be able to help you."
With a slight dip of his head, Grissom thanked her before moving off. He didn't see the long, appreciative look she gave to his retreating back.
There was a woman on the phone at the desk and her name tag read E. Bethune. Grissom stood by, waiting patiently for her to finish the call. He glanced up and down the hall, noting the distance to the stairwells. The corridor took a ninety degree turn at both ends; continuing past the stairwell doors and hiding some rooms from view. With the nurses' station recessed between patient rooms the view to the ends of the main hall would be non-existent. Just seeing the way the floor was laid out gave Grissom an idea of how the crimes might be possible.
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It has been six days since I rescued Emily. Six days and too many souls still in need to count. I never thought that the need to help others transcend their suffering would be so strong. Logically, I know if I help too many people others will become suspicious. But the desire to do good, to free these women from their diseased bodies, is so hard to resist. Yet resist I must, or run the risk of being unable to help anyone ever again.
I'm not on the schedule today, but I still have rounds to make so I set my alarm to get up at four. Renee murmurs in her sleep as I ease from the bed. By the time I am dressed, she has shifted and is sprawled across the mattress, my pillow clutched to her chest. The moonlight through the window lights her face and she glows. I feel her beauty in the center of my chest. She's still everything I ever dreamed of. With a gentle kiss to her temple and a whispered I love you, I leave her to her dreams.
The streets are quiet and I make the twenty mile trip in just under the same number of minutes. I know the stops and starts, the turns by heart. And I allow my mind to wander while my car takes me to the hospital. My mind's eye shows me a montage of the rescued ones. Each of them is special to me. Their faces, their voices, their eyes all tell a story of pain and suffering. And I am filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment that being a doctor never gave me.
I enter the hospital through the emergency room. There is a physician's entrance, but I would have to swipe a card and I'm sure that information is recorded somewhere. There is no purpose in leaving a trail that can be so easily followed. I nod at the nurses and ER docs as I traverse the labyrinth of curtained off treatment areas. As usual, the place is a beehive of activity and no one bothers to ask what I'm doing. Chances are, five minutes after I'm gone, they won't even remember that I was there.
I make my rounds, checking on my patients from yesterday. I read over their charts, making sure their vitals look normal. I chat with the few nurses that are in the halls. I want to make sure I stick to my established routine. I work my way from bottom to top, taking the stairs; again, to establish a pattern. When I pull open the door from the stairwell that leads to the fifth floor, I see an unfamiliar man standing in front of the nurses' station chatting with Elizabeth. I hesitate before stepping out into the hall.