A/N: I want to give a huge shout of thanks to Mingsmommy and Losingntrnslatn. These women drag me kicking and screaming through these. They smack me when I need it and tell me I'm doing good when it's deserved. They are awesome.
December 31, 2007
Grissom pushed open the door of the small diner and stepped inside. The air was warm and humid and smelled of bacon grease and pancakes and coffee; aromas familiar to every working class man and woman in America. He paused, his eyes scanning the room, skipping over the empty tables, until he spotted Elizabeth Bethune. She was seated at a table on the far side of the restaurant, her eyes glued to a book. He could see the strain on her face from where he stood.
He made his way across the room and stopped beside her table. "Elizabeth?"
Her head jerked up and she jumped. Pressing a hand to her chest, she said, "You startled me, Dr. Grissom." When he continued standing, she motioned toward the chair. "Please, sit down."
"Thanks." He pulled the chair out and slid into the seat. "I didn't mean to scare you."
With a shake of her head, she waved away his apology. Carefully marking her place, she set the book aside and picked up a menu. She placed it front of him before taking one for herself. "I didn't want to order without you."
Grissom picked up the menu and glanced over it. The waitress, a bottle blonde with leathery skin and a gold tooth that winked in the fluorescent lighting wandered over. She slouched beside the table, pencil poised over the order pad.
"What can I get ya?" she drawled around the wad of gum in her mouth.
They ordered and the woman sauntered off, gum snapping in time with the swing of her hips.
Grissom learned early in his career to be quiet, to listen. It was amazing what a person would say in order to fill up a silence. But he was beginning to think Elizabeth was going to be able to out wait him. For the second time that night, he concentrated on controlling his breathing. He watched as she played with the straw in her glass before taking a long drink. She studied the Formica table top, refusing to meet his gaze.
He glanced up and murmured a 'thank you' when the waitress slid a steaming mug in front of him. Picking it up, he blew across the surface and took a tentative sip, grimacing at the bitterness. Finally, when he thought he was going to have to pry words out of her, Elizabeth began to speak.
"Have you ever made a fool of yourself over a woman, Dr. Grissom?" Elizabeth kept her eyes on the table while she carefully shredded a napkin with hands that trembled.
"Yes." Grissom nodded, reinforcing the word even though she didn't notice. "And, please call me Gil."
"Alright, Gil." She looked up and flashed him a smile before letting her eyes slide back to the table. "I feel like such an idiot."
Once again, he was silent. She obviously had a story to tell and she was going to tell it at her own pace.
She drew in a breath and, leaning back in her chair, let it out slowly. For the first time she met his gaze. "I believed him when he said he was there making rounds." She ran her hands through her hair, tufts sticking out in unruly spikes. "I believed him when he smiled at me and flirted with me."
Nodding, Grissom kept his eyes on her, his face morphing into a sympathetic mask. "Tell me what changed that."
Her response was cut short by the waitress' return. Placing their plates in front of them she left without a word. Grissom turned once again to Elizabeth. "You were saying?"
"I saw it. He let his guard down and I saw the truth. I saw the whole horrible truth in those eyes." She turned to stare out the window, her cheeks burning a bright red. Her voice lowered to a whisper and she said, "I can't believe I was so stupid."
Grissom could see her reflection and he watched as tears spilled over her lashes trickled slowly down her cheeks. Reaching over, he took her hand and squeezed, his wedding band glinting warmly in the harsh light. In a soft voice, he said, "Tell me what you saw, Elizabeth. Help me to see the truth."
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Sara turned into the driveway and hit the button on the remote for the garage. Nothing happened.
"Shit," she whispered. "Stupid dead batteries."
Parking in front of the furthest garage door, she cut the engine and climbed out. She stretched, arms over her head, rising up on her tip toes and then bending forward until her fingertips touched the ground. Standing she looked around, soaking in her surroundings. The neighborhood was quiet. Judging by the number of cars in front of the house three doors down, the Jackson's were throwing a party. With a smile splitting her face, she popped the trunk and retrieved her bag before heading to the front door.
The house was dark and Sara fumbled with fitting her key in the lock. Suddenly, she heard a sharp bark from the other side of the door, followed by the scratch of nails against the wood.
"Hank," Sara tried to sound firm even though she was smiling so hard it hurt. "Get down. Don't scratch the door." Finally, the key turned. "I'm coming. Mama's coming. Get down."
Hank backed up as she opened the door, his nails scrabbling against the slate of the entryway. Sara eased in and pushed the door closed while Hank danced in circles at her feet. When she dropped her bag, he gave one excited bark before jumping up and putting his paws on her shoulders. His big tongue swiped up her left cheek when she turned to dodge his welcoming kiss.
"Hank," Sara admonished in a whisper, "get down." She shoved at the boxer, trying to dislodge him. When he had all four feet on the ground, she knelt and hugged him, burying her face in his neck. The feel of his fur against her face and his familiar doggy smell had her tearing up and she held onto him mumbling nonsense. "I missed you. So much. You're mama's big boy. Yes you are. My big boy."
Sitting back on her heels, she used her nails to scratch the top of his head and his ears and then along his neck to his sides. When the big dog flopped over on his side, she giggled and began to scratch his belly. Even when her arms grew tired, Hank continued to lie on his back with all four legs in the air. His eyes were closed and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. He was the picture of pure bliss.
With a final pat to Hank's chest, Sara clambered to her feet. "Come on, boy. Let's go find daddy."
Gathering her purse and duffle she locked the door and headed toward the bedroom, Hank trotting ahead of her. When Sara entered the room, the dog was already sprawled across the middle of the bed, his head up and what looked suspiciously like a grin on his face.
Since Grissom was obviously not in bed, Sara turned on a light. Dropping her bags on the chair in the corner of the room, she hurried into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out and climbed on the bed next to Hank. Kicking her shoes off, Sara wrapped her body around the canine and scratched his ears.
"Where's daddy, Hank? Hmmmmmm?" She yawned. The trip had been long and she was tired. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arm around Hank. "We'll just wait right here. He has to be back soon."
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"Your wife…" Elizabeth looked up at Grissom, giving him a soft smile, "is a very lucky woman."
Slowly, Grissom released her hand. "I'm the lucky one, Elizabeth." Blushing under her gaze, he said, "Tell me about Doctor Rosenthal."
Picking up her burger, Elizabeth took a bite and chewed slowly. Swallowing, she took a long drink of soda. "It wasn't until you came by the hospital that I even thought about this. I had no reason to doubt what he told me before."
Dragging a lone french fry through the ketchup on her plate, she popped it into her mouth. Swallowing, she continued. "He's been on the floor at odd hours. Four, four thirty in the morning. He would just appear out of nowhere."
She realized her glass was empty and looked around for the waitress. Finally catching the woman's eye, Elizabeth held up the glass and smiled.
"He never uses the elevator, you know." She sent Grissom another smile. "Not like you. Not like everybody else."
Grissom had been eating quietly, absorbing her tale. "Elizabeth, taking the stairs doesn't make him a murderer."
She shook her head. "It's not just that. I've…I've seen him on the floor when he didn't have any patients there." She pushed the last bite of burger into her mouth.
"In the middle of the night?" Grissom's brow slid up and he watched her carefully.
She nodded and swallowed. "Yeah. He told me once he was covering for Doctor Amir. But Doctor Amir made his own rounds later, after the day shift came on. I saw his notes in the charts."
"Have you seen him in or around any of the rooms where the women died?"
Muttering a thank you to the waitress, Elizabeth took a drink from her new glass. "I can't say." Leaning back, she let out a sharp sigh. "I don't know why I called you. Maybe I'm just mad and now I'm looking for a way to get back at him."
Grissom felt his heart sink. He had hoped that she would be his break, the one thing to break it wide open. His voice was harsh, his frustration overflowing, when he said, "I don't want to place blame where it doesn't belong. But if he's killing these women, he needs to be stopped."
Once again her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time. I just…just…" she trailed off with a sob. Grabbing a handful of napkins from the metal dispenser on the table, she wiped at her eyes. "I just don't have what you want. I can't tell you anything definite."
Tamping down his anger, Grissom tried to smile. "That's okay. You can at least place him at the scene. Maybe if you checked your records it would jog your memory."
Outwardly, Grissom was calm, but inside he was walking a high wire over the Grand Canyon. He couldn't ask her to check the records. Even now, if she chose to do it on her own, the information wouldn't be admissible in court. But if he could just get something to take to Brass, something to point toward foul play, maybe he could convince him that those women were being murdered. Of course, if he pushed too hard and Elizabeth got nervous, he could find himself in more trouble than he was in now.
Elizabeth glanced at her watch. "Oh, I had no idea it was so late. I've got to get to work." She gave him a watery smile. "I'm so sorry I wasted your time. I'm sure you'd rather have been at home with your wife. Or out somewhere…"
Summoning a smile, Grissom said, "Don't worry about it. My wife is very understanding."
Dropping a few dollars on the table to cover the tip, Grissom stood and waited for her to gather her things before following her to the register. Despite her protests, he paid for their dinner and then followed her to her car.
"Gil, thank you for dinner. And again, I'm so sorry." Elizabeth held out her hand.
Grissom took her hand, giving it a firm shake. "Dinner was my pleasure. Please, if you think of anything, give me a call."
"I will." She climbed into her car and closed the door.
Neither of them noticed the midnight blue Lexus that slowed down as it passed the diner. Neither of them felt the icy coldness of the driver's malevolent stare.
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From two houses down, Grissom saw the little silver car parked in the driveway and a spike of pure joy shot through him. Could it be? Was that really her car?
"Sara," her name was a whisper.
Just as quickly as it came, his happiness faded. It couldn't be a coincidence. Grissom didn't believe in those. What he did believe in was evidence, facts. And the evidence in this case told him somebody called her. It didn't matter if Brass or Catherine had done the deed. The fact remained that she didn't just pick today to come home.
Pulling into the garage, he lowered the door and cut the engine. For a minute he just sat in the car, bracing himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. He could feel a headache starting right behind his eyes. He knew that without his medication, the band of pain would soon spread up and out until it felt as if his head were caught in a vise. Mumbling a curse underneath his breath, he got out of the car and went inside.
In the kitchen he took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and grabbed his migraine medication from the cabinet. He shook a pill into his palm. Washing it down with a long drink of water, he ran a hand over his eyes and willed the headache away.
The house was silent. Then he heard the faint click of Hank's nails on the floor. Turning he watched as the dog, his dog, paused in the archway between the kitchen and living room. Hank, his head swiveling back and forth, whined and gave a short bark. Turning he took a few steps back toward the bedroom before stopping and looking back at Grissom.
"Is mama in the bedroom, boy?" Grissom walked over and scratched Hank's ears, chuffing out a laugh when the boxer nuzzled against his hand. "Didn't want to leave her, did you?" Hank gave a short bark and led the way to the bedroom. Grissom followed, his mind wary but his heart pounding out a rhythm of hope.
He entered the bedroom a couple of steps behind Hank. For a moment he simply stood and stared at her. Sara was curled up in the middle of the big space, her arms and legs tucked close to her body as if she was cold. Her hair was spread out around her; a nimbus of brown curls. Her chest rose and fell slowly with each breath.
Grissom was rooted to the spot. It had been months since he watched her sleep. Long months of loneliness. Long months during which he had forgotten what it was like to see her this way; so relaxed, so beautiful. It didn't matter that he understood her reasons for leaving, the fact was her departure still hurt. Mentally he gave himself a shake. Crossing to the bed, he covered her with the blanket that was draped over the end of the mattress. His hand hovered over her hair, barely touching the silken strands. She stirred a little, a smile flitting over her lips, and he stepped back. He would deal with Sara in the morning. Now was not a good time.
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Sara came awake slowly, her mind struggling to remember where she was. Glancing around, she realized she was in her bed…their bed. She was home. For a moment, she snuggled beneath the blanket covering her. She remembered coming in and being attacked by Hank. A smile tugged at her lips as the memory ran through her mind. Just as quickly, the smile faded. Hank was the only one here to greet her.
Lifting her head, Sara glanced around the room. The grey light of early dawn was bleeding through the blinds and she was alone. Obviously, Grissom had come in at some point because she was covered with a blanket. Finding the clock, she was surprised to realize it was five in the morning. She had been asleep for at least six hours. Sitting up, she stretched before climbing off the bed and padding into the other room.
Grissom was stretched out on the sofa; one arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach. For a moment Sara couldn't breathe. Her heart was in her throat and she simply stared at him. Then she noticed how thin his face was, how dark the skin around his eyes was, and she felt the hot rush of guilt flood over her.
Hank, who had been sleeping beside the sofa, rose, stretched and wandered over to press against her legs before taking off for the back door. Dragging her attention from her husband's sleeping form, she followed the dog. Letting him out, Sara went about making coffee, focusing her attention to the task at hand, because allowing herself to think about the man in the other room and how he had suffered because of her was not something she could do at that moment.
Sara was sitting at the breakfast bar sipping coffee and watching Hank eat his breakfast when Grissom shuffled into the kitchen. He simply stood there for a moment, watching her.
She stood and took a step toward him but he stiffened and Sara stopped short. She waited, hoping he would say something. But soon the silence became too much and with a nervous smile she asked, "Why didn't you wake me?"
Grissom shrugged, brushing aside her question. "You were asleep." Without another word he moved to the coffee maker and reached for a mug. With his back to her, he poured the coffee, his back a rigid line.
When he finally spoke, she could hear the strain in each word, "Why are you here?"
Sucking in a breath at the anger in his voice, Sara fought to choke back her own temper. She knew this was coming. She just didn't expect it to happen before they even said hello. "Brass…"
"He never should've called you." Grissom ran a hand through his hair turning the already messy curls into unruly spikes.
"I…uh… Well, if you don't…don't want me here, I can leave." Sara's voice trembled, pain obvious in every syllable. "I'll just stay in a hotel, if that's what you want."
With a hard shake of his head, Grissom said, "No, Sara, that's n-... Stay." Bracing himself on the counter, he stared out into the back yard.
Tension hung in the room like a heavy blanket until finally he spoke again. Sliding his coffee mug across the counter with a frustrated push, not noticing as the liquid sloshed over the rim, he clenched his jaw and said, "I knew this would happen. I knew if you found out about work you would come running back."
"Of course I came back. What did you expect?" Her words were said in a confused rush as she moved around the counter and touched him, her palm warm and solid between his shoulder blades.
Jerking away from her touch, Grissom moved around her. "I can't talk about this right now, Sara." Snatching his keys up, he marched to door. He paused there, not facing her when he admitted, "I can't….can't breathe." And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
Sara stood in the middle of the kitchen, listening as he started his car and backed out of the garage. Her mind was spinning, trying to understand what had just happened. Then his last words registered and she knew where he was going. Hurrying into the bedroom, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and slipped on her shoes. She grabbed a jacket for each of them and was soon backing out of the driveway.