Disclaimer: Not Mine.
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to LiT, Mingsmommy and Superlibn for their work on this. They make this very easy!
December 31, 2007
Sara came awake with a jolt, her body jerking forcibly from the land of ether. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Her heart jumped up into her throat and her mind instantly flew to Grissom. Without pausing to check the time, she picked up her phone from the bedside table and dialed his number. When his voicemail picked up she waited impatiently until she could leave a message.
Glancing at the clock she realized it was almost nine o'clock. Her first thought was that he should be at home by now. But then she realized she was kidding herself. He could try to pretend he wasn't working too much but she knew better. She knew he was pulling doubles and she carried her fair share of guilt over that.
With a sigh she clambered out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. Emerging a few minutes later, she dressed in her favorite jeans and a heavy fisherman's sweater, grabbed up her phone and went into the kitchen to make coffee. She placed the phone on the counter so it would be close, and she continuously glanced at it, as if she could will it to ring.
Coffee cup in one hand and cell phone in the other, Sara opened the back door and stepped onto the deck. The sky was gray and the clouds seemed close enough to touch. Heavy and full of rain, they loomed overhead and blocked out the sun. She curled into a chair and tucked her feet underneath her for warmth. The small lawn sloped down to a narrow strip of sand that was dotted with rocks. Waves, the same steel gray as the sky, ran forward and broke with a crash before hurrying back toward the horizon. Usually, the constant motion soothed her but not today.
She was on her second cup of coffee when unease forced her up and out of the chair to pace along the deck. Cradling the cup she stopped for a moment to watch a lone gull. Perched atop the largest rock, he stood perfectly still and stared straight out to sea. She let her eyes travel to the horizon, searching for whatever held the bird's attention. But the only things she saw were water and sky and the vastness of it all.
She turned from the view and cursed the silence of the phone. With a sigh, she stalked over and snatched it off the chair. Dialing Grissom's number she listened to the ringing. The call went unanswered and she snapped the device closed in frustration.
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Two hours turned into two and a half and Grissom was exhausted when he dropped off the stack of ten cards with the day shift print tech for entering into the system. He headed to his office to get his briefcase, when he practically ran into Ecklie.
"Gil," Ecklie shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, "I thought you left."
Stopping short, he shook his head. "No, Conrad, I just got back." Turning tired eyes to his supervisor, he asked, "Can this wait until tomorrow?"
"Let's go to your office then." Ecklie waved him forward. "This really can't wait."
Grissom walked through the door and around behind the desk. He settled into his chair and gestured Ecklie into one across from him. "Have a seat. What can I do for you?"
Ecklie took a moment to gather his thoughts, his eyes scanning the specimens that were scattered around the room. With a soft grunt, he turned his eyes back to Grissom. "Gil, I got a call last night, late last night."
Remaining silent, Grissom simply watched him. Ecklie shifted in his chair, crossing his legs and making sure the crease in his pant leg was set. "The call was from my neighbor, Joseph Williams. I think you've met his son."
What started as irritation on Grissom's part quickly turned into dread. Obviously Rodney Williams had called his parents after Grissom's visit. He schooled his features into a blank mask, determined to give nothing away. "You obviously know I have, Conrad."
"What were you thinking? You can't just go into a man's house and suggest that somebody murdered his wife." Ecklie's voice was calm but his hands were clenched. "You're lucky they called me and not the sheriff."
Grissom leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was far too tired to deal with this. All he wanted was to go home and sleep. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for Ecklie to continue.
"Gil, I'm not sure what's going on with you anymore. I mean, I…uh…I know about Sidle. of course, but you aren't the kind of guy who goes off on some wild tangent." He offered up a weak smile, his lips twisting. "At least, not in years."
Still, Grissom remained silent, unsure of which tangent the man was referring to. Finally, he shrugged and said, "If I had it to do again, I wouldn't do anything different, Conrad." The words seemed to fit whatever situation Ecklie might have been talking about. And he liked to think he would still make the same decisions if faced with the same set of circumstances.
For a time, the room was silent. The two men watched each other, wary, unsure of where this conversation was headed. Finally, with a sigh of what could only be regret, Ecklie began to speak.
"Look, Gil," Ecklie paused and ran a hand over his eyes. "I would like to think that we've put our differences behind us. I mean, I know what you're going through."
Grissom's eyebrow climbed higher. "Do you?"
"Come on, Gil. I've been dumped by a girlfriend before."
"Wife." The word was so soft that it was almost swallowed by the faint noises of the lab outside the door. "And I wasn't dumped."
His mouth dropped open and Ecklie gaped at Grissom. "What? When?"
With a tired smile, Grissom shrugged. "About a month before she left."
Closing his mouth with a snap, Ecklie shook his head. "Does anybody know?" Then he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You know what? It doesn't matter. We'll deal with this later."
Grissom nodded. "If we're done here, I'd like to go home. I need to get some sleep. It's going to be a busy night."
"Gil, I think you need to take some time off." Ecklie watched Grissom's reaction.
"It's New Year's Eve. I'm down one CSI and Nick has the night off." Grissom shook his head. "I have five active cases from last night alone. I can't take any time off right now."
Standing, Ecklie smoothed his jacket and adjusted his sleeves. "It's not a suggestion, Gil."
Brows drawing together in a frown, Grissom said, "I'm not sure I understand. I can probably take a few days off in a week or so. But not right now."
"Look," Ecklie took a step forward, crowding the desk. He kept his voice low and even. "I understand that you're under a lot of pressure. But you can't just go around creating cases where there aren't any. You can't go around upsetting people in order to fill up your empty time."
"Is that what you really think I'm doing?" Grissom remained seated, gazing up at Ecklie, refusing to be drawn into an argument that neither of them would win.
Ecklie stood there, his gaze fixed on Grissom. Finally, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gil. I won't change my mind. You either take five days off or…I'll have to suspend you."
"On what grounds?" Grissom's voice was low, his anger barely contained.
"Does it matter?" Ecklie turned and walked to the door. Pausing, he turned and looked back. "Just take the time, Gil. Get your head together and I'll see you in a week."
Grissom's hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, but he held onto his temper and his tongue. "What about my shift?"
"I'll call Catherine." Pushing his hands into his pockets, he asked in voice that was firm but not unkind, "What should I tell her, Gil?"
Pushing to his feet, Grissom pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "Tell her you suspended me."
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Brass tossed his phone on the coffee table and leaned back against the cushions of the couch. With a sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face.
"Everything okay?" Heather came in from the kitchen, a mug of tea in her hand.
He shook his head and shrugged. "That was Catherine. Gil got himself suspended this morning."
Sitting down on the other end of the couch, she curled into the corner. "What happened?"
"She didn't know, but I'd be willing to go five large it was about those women who died at St. Rose."
Heather brought the cup to her mouth, blowing across the surface of the drink to cool it. She took a sip. "What are you going to do?"
"Not much I can do." Once again, he scrubbed a hand over his face. "If I know Gil, he'll be pouting for a while. Then he'll go right ahead and do what got him in trouble in the first place."
Nodding, she took another sip. "Why don't you call Sara?"
"Call Sara?" Jim shook his head. "And tell her what?"
"The truth, James. Tell her what's been going on." When he continued to shake his head, she continued in her best imitation of is gravelly New Jersey accent, "I'd be willing to go five large that she doesn't have a clue."
He chuckled and then grew serious. "You think she's gonna run back just because he's in trouble?"
Heather thought back to that day in the hospital, letting the images of the two wash over her. With a smile and a nod, she said, "Yes. I do."
"Tell you what. I'll take that bet." Jim grinned and picked up the phone, finding her number and pushing the button to dial it. It rang once before her familiar, throaty voice came over the speaker. Before she could finish her hello he was speaking. "Sara? It's Brass. We have a problem."