A DIFFERENT DILEMMA

Part three

You don't need to read "Dilemma", but you should know that in that story, Greg's former boyfriend Dennis was hoping to get Greg back. You should also know that Greg's older sister Karen hated Grissom from the beginning and made no secret of it.

Killing someone must be traumatic for anyone; for Gil it would be devastating.

It wasn't until almost noon that I was finally able to talk to Catherine.

She clearly didn't know what to say. She had never had any trouble voicing any thought that came to her mind, but we just had never been in a situation like this before.

In the end, she opted for the easiest opening:

"You ok?" she asked.

"Ten." I said.

She frowned.

"Ten?"

"You're the tenth person who's asked me that." Between Brass and her, there'd been Dr. Pierce and Albert, and a few text-messages that I'd read before putting my cell in a back pocket. I changed the subject by motioning her to sit.

There were several stacks of files on my desk and I put my hand on the tallest one, "These are the investigations that the night shift is currently handling," I said,

She sat down and quietly listened while I explained what each pile meant. One for reports, one for autopsies to review, and so forth and so forth.

She interrupted me before I finished my explanation.

"Gil? It's only a three-day suspension, not a six-week vacation, you know."

My lack of response alarmed her.

"You're not thinking of taking a six-week vacation, are you?"

I hesitated before answering.

"I'll need more than just a few days off, Catherine. Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize," she said quickly, "It's all right. I understand. It's just..." she shook her head, trying to find the right words, "What are you going to do with all that free time in your hands? I mean, if you're simply going to hole up for a whole month..."

"I'm going to be fine."

"Sure, you are." she said slowly. She sighed. "Gil… I'd be lying if I said I knew what you're going through... And I'm sure you'll find something to comfort you for the next weeks -philosophy, religion... books... But if you ever start to feel that the world is going mad around you... then give me a call. That's something I can help you with."

I smiled despite myself.

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I left the lab after talking to Catherine. I didn't want to go home yet, and so I drove aimlessly for half an hour. Before long, however, I turned and drove to the hospital.

I knew I shouldn't, but I had to make sure that Greg was ok. The last time I saw him, he was huddling in the back of an ambulance while an EMT performed a perfunctory examination on him, (the real action was with the fallen officer, who had about four people working on him).

I knew the perp hadn't shot Greg, and yet, I was afraid that his injuries might be more serious than everybody had led me to believe. I knew I wouldn't be able to see him, but I was willing to settle for a medical report.

At the reception I found that my CSI credentials gave me access to Greg's medical chart but only if I signed a request. Wary of leaving written proof of my presence at the hospital, I decided to wait in case the doctor in charge came to the nurse station.

I was waiting, when suddenly, someone pulled me to a side. Sara.

Of course. She must have come down to the hospital the minute she got the news. Warrick and Greg were the most cherished men in her life.

"Grissom!" she hissed, "What are you doing here?"

"Sara -"

She was glancing around.

"You're not supposed to be here-" she interrupted, "A guy from I.A. was here a while ago, and he said -"

"I know." I said. I took a deep breath, "I just… I just wanted to -" I didn't finish, but she seemed to understand. She gently led me to a nearby visitors' room. There were several people there, but their attention was on a TV set .

"I needed to be here." I said.

She patted my arm.

"You needed to see for yourself that Greg is ok," she said.

I nodded, and it suddenly occurred to me that she probably knew exactly how I felt. She knew me too well.

Her concern turned into sadness.

"Oh, Grissom," she sighed, and to my surprise, she wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you," She whispered in my ear.

People rarely ever touch me, and since the shooting no one had even come close enough to shake my hand. To have Sara hug me was just too much to bear, and for a moment I was afraid that I was going to break down.

"Thank you," she repeated, "For saving them."

Her gratitude made me uncomfortable. It was almost as bad as getting that standing ovation.

"God, it's awful, isn't it?" she whispered. "Having people thank you for something you didn't want to do." She pulled back to look at me, "But you saved Warrick and Greg. I can't help being grateful, Grissom."

She released me, but she kept her eyes on me.

"I know how difficult this must be for you."

"I'm fine," I said hoarsely.

She knew I wasn't, but she didn't say anything. She only touched my arm in a comforting manner.

"I saw Greg a half hour ago." she said, "Apart from some minor damage to his vocal chords, he's physically ok. He was a little agitated but the doctors said it was a normal reaction. Delayed shock, they called it," she paused for a moment, "He... he had to be sedated. He kept trying to talk," she looked at me, "Kept asking about you."

I leant on a wall. Suddenly, I felt very tired.

"He was worried," she said.

"He was worried about me?"

"Yes." she said, "He knew this had to be difficult for you, He knows, you Grissom."

"So do you," I said softly. I looked at the floor. "I made such a mess, Sara. And I'm not talking about last night."

"Grissom... You have the rest of your life to make amends."

I only shook my head.

"You do," she said reassuringly.

I looked at her and noticed the worry in her eyes.

It suddenly dawned on me that I, too, was a cherished man in her life.

I didn't know what to say; I really didn't deserve her loyalty.

"By the way," she said in a lighter tone, "I talked to Warrick a while ago; he says that everyone from the night shift reported for duty the minute they found out. They say they're not leaving the building until they put it all together -the robbery, the assault -"

Everything was under control. It was a sudden realization: they didn't need me. There was nothing for me to do but wait for others to clear up the mess I'd made.

I smiled faintly at her.

"I guess I better leave, then." I said, "The last thing you need is me, complicating matters with I.A."

She didn't contradict me.

"We'll work it out," Sara said reassuringly. "We'll be taking turns coming to the hospital. I'll try to stay until Greg wakes up. The minute he does, I'll let him know you were here."

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I went back to my car , but I couldn't stand the idea of going home, and so I simply sat there, wondering what to do.

I was staring at nothing in particular, when a familiar figure crossed my line of vision. A tall, blond man carrying a tasteful flower arrangement.

Dennis. Psychologist Dennis Pratt, Greg's former boyfriend.

The man who, only a few months back, had quietly predicted that I would screw things up with Greg.

I still remembered his self-satisfied smirk as he said that all he had to do was wait. He went on to say that I'd inevitably find myself unable to cope with the relationship; "And when that happens," he said, "I'll step back into Greg's life."

Now, I sat watching as Dennis stood on the sidewalk, waiting for traffic to slow down.

He didn't once look in my direction and even if he'd had, all he would have seen was the reflection of the sun on the car window. It suddenly occurred to me that if I were a sniper, then I'd be in a perfect spot to take Dennis down.

For second, I imagined that I was holding a gun, and that I was aiming it at Dennis. Then I imagined that I was calling out to him, only to pull the trigger the minute he turned in my direction.

I knew the damage that a bullet in his chest could do; I could visualize the trajectory of the bullet as it tore into the skin and the muscles, bouncing from one rib to another until it found a cozy nest inside Dennis' heart. I could visualize the spatter, staining his arrogant face with bloody freckles…

I exhaled. I'd been holding my breath while I indulged in those thoughts; I was shaking, and had to grab the steering wheel to get a hold of myself. I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

There was no sense of triumph in thinking I could kill Dennis. There was only shame and despair as I suddenly realized how killing a man had changed me. I'd pulled a trigger, and now I found it easy to indulge in thoughts of violence. The old Gil Grissom would have deplored this.

I opened my eyes and saw Dennis cross the street. He radiated confidence as he took the steps to the hospital two at the time.

Defeated, I leant back in my seat.

There was no use in hating Dennis. He hadn't done anything except work out a prediction out of the evidence he'd collected from me. It was all my doing.

All I could do now was watch Dennis as he stepped into the hospital… and into Greg's life.

Finally, I had a reason to leave.

As I drove back home, I envisioned going inside and shutting the door on the world. It was not to be. When I drove into my driveway, I saw Karen, Greg's older sister pacing up and down the sidewalk, waiting for me.

I was taken aback at first; I didn't want to see anyone, least of all Karen, who had made no secret of her dislike for me.

And yet, the more I thought of it, the more I realized that talking to Karen was exactly what I needed at the moment. After the pitying looks and quiet reassurances I'd been getting all day, Karen was the one person who'd put things into the right perspective: I'd put her brother in unnecessary danger, and that was the truth.

She was bound to be angry at me, and she would probably start screaming, the minute I got out of my car.

Good.

But she didn't do that. She quietly waited for me to walk up to her.

Her eyes were reddish and swollen, and her lips were trembling with unspent emotion.

Her voice didn't rise above a whisper.

"I- I'd like to talk to you." she said meekly.

"Yes," I said, motioning her to come along with me. I opened the door and let her in. I was sure she would start screaming the minute I closed the door behind us, but she ended up doing the one thing I would have never anticipated: She hugged me.

I automatically put my arms around her. She felt thin and small, and she was shaking. Concerned, I pulled back just enough to look into her face.

"Karen?"

She immediately pushed away from me. She seemed embarrassed by her emotional outburst.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, roughly wiping the wetness off her cheeks. "God, you must hate displays like this." she added with a nervous scoff.

She stood with her arms hanging by her sides but it seemed she couldn't take the sudden emptiness, and so she crossed them tightly around herself.

I ushered her into the living room and motioned her to sit.

I waited for her to say something, but all she did was take deep breaths. She clearly wanted to get back in control, but it was a losing battle. In the end, she covered her face with one hand and started to cry.

Awkwardly, I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders.

"Karen, he's going to be all right." I said, and it occurred to me that I was not only reassuring her but myself, too.

I needed to believe that Greg would pull through and recover from this.

He had to.

She made a visible effort to put herself together.

She dropped her hand and looked at me.

"God, you must think I'm crazy."

"No." I said gently, "I understand. He's your brother." I wished I had something comforting to say, "Listen," I said, "I've just been to the hospital. They told me he's doing ok."

"I know." she replied, "I was there a while ago myself." She took a deep breath, "He couldn't talk but he managed to tell me what you did for him."

I looked down.

"I know how you feel," she whispered. She reached for my hand, "This must go against every belief you've ever held," she said with surprising insight.

I didn't say anything, and she quickly withdrew her hand.

"Greg's so worried about you," she said. "Kept asking me to make sure you were ok -" she smiled faintly, "He made me promise I'd come."

"I appreciate that." I said with difficulty. I couldn't hold her grateful gaze for much longer, and I rose and went to the kitchen. I brought her a glass of water.

She took the glass and took a little sip -out of courtesy, maybe.

She looked down at the glass in her hands.

"I haven't been nice to you, have I?" she asked, but didn't wait for me to answer. "In fact, I've been pretty odious."

I didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'ts just -"

I didn't want to hear this.

"Karen, it's ok," I interrupted, "You were only protecting him -"

To my surprise, she laughed bitterly.

"That's what everybody thinks of me, right?" she said, "That I'm protective of him –my little brother." she shook her head. "Oh, God, it's such a joke -"

She shook her head. After a moment, she looked at me again, and now there was a hardness in her manner that was closer to the way she'd always been.

"The truth is, I've been a horrible sister to him, Gil." She said. She kept her gaze on me, as if waiting for my reaction. I didn't say anything, and after a moment, she continued, "I used to torture him," she said, "Not physically." She was quick to add, "Emotionally."

She couldn't hold my gaze any longer. She rose abruptly, and for a moment, she kept her back to me.

"We lost our dad too soon, you know?" she said, "Gregory was two and I was six when he died. My brother didn't really notice dad's absence, but I did." she paused for a moment. "I remembered."

She turned. She looked in my direction, but for some reason she wouldn't look at me in the face.

"I had memories of dad but Gregory had none, so -" she took a deep breath, " I would tell him about dad," she said, "I'd give him little bits of information -just enough to whet his appetite- and then I would stop. When Gregory begged me to continue, I would simply say, 'If you do this, or do that, then maybe I'll tell you more.'"

There was a faraway look in her eyes as she continued, "I made him do my chores in exchange of my stories. It was blackmail, but to him, it was all like a game; he seemed truly happy to do my chores. He was such a good-natured kid..." She paused, "Me, I was a bitter child. Jealous." She bit her lip before adding, "I was an angry child, Gil. I was angry at the world, and I… I took it out on Gregory."

"I guess his being so sweet and happy only made it worse," she added, "In time, I began to withhold my stories, even after he'd done what I wanted. He would wash the dishes or whatever I'd asked him to do, and then I would say, 'oh, now I won't tell you anything!' And his tears wouldn't move me."

She glanced at me, and this time I had the feeling that she was daring me to react.

I had to make an effort not to do just that. I remained outwardly impassive, but deep inside I was blown away by how much I hated her at the moment. I didn't move or say anything, and after a moment she continued.

"Fortunately, my grandmother intervened." she said. "She got me some help."

She turned, and this time she looked at me in the eye.

"When Gregory announced that he was gay, I was afraid that it was my fault -that I'd somehow put him off women. I still wonder -" she added wearily. "But I was supportive -it was the least I could do, right?" she smiled ironically.

I didn't reply.

She sighed, "I let him be. I never said anything, not even when he got involved with that psychologist prick. But when he got involved with you... I couldn't remain silent anymore. I told him all sort of things -horrible things. I told him he was simply looking for someone to replace dad..." she let her voice trail off.

"I argued with him; tried to put you down. And all along, he just smiled at me. He'd let me rave, and then he'd simply shrug and say that he loved you -that he was happy. And I could tell that he was, but I... I still made things difficult for you two. I'm sorry, Gil." she whispered, "I didn't know you loved him this much."

There was a lot to process from that statement, but my first thought was that Greg had not told her anything about our break-up.

We were silent for a moment.

"He thinks it's his fault -what happened last night." she said.

"It wasn't." I said.

"But would you forgive him, if it was?" she asked anxiously.

"There's nothing to forgive -"

"Gil," she interrupted, "If he feels responsible, then you'll have to talk to him. He will need some reassurance. Will you give it to him? Please."

"All right." I said.

She sat down again. 'Collapse' would be a more precise term for what she did. She seemed completely exhausted.

I didn't know what to say. I knew that the old Gil Grissom -the one she met all those months ago- would have found something comforting to say. He would have spurted a few platitudes, quoted something from Shakespeare, maybe.

But I didn't feel like comforting her, not after what she'd done to Greg.

And yet... I couldn't be cruel to her.

After all, I had hurt her brother, too.

"You know..." I said, "He's always told me how you used to get into fights because of him."

She looked up.

"At school," I added, "When the older kids would bully him, you would step in and defend him."

She smiled.

"He told you that?"

"Yes," I said. "He's grateful for that. He looks up to you, Karen."

The corners of her mouth tilted down. She was going to cry again, but she got a hold of herself.

"He needs you now." I said.

She nodded. She took a deep breath, as if to fortify herself for what was to come.

"I guess I'd better go back -" she said.

She rose.

"Do you need anything?" I asked, rising too. "A lift -"

"No, it's ok. I drove here." she glanced at me. She hesitated, "I... hum..."

She didn't know what to say now. She had hugged me, but now that her emotional outburst had receded, she couldn't even offer me her hand.

"Can I give you some books for him?" I asked suddenly.

"Oh. Good."

I picked the top books on my coffee table; I doubted that Greg would want to read about insects in South Africa, but it was all I had on hand, and she took them willingly. There was so little we could really do for Greg, that we were both grasping at straws.

She took the books and hugged them against her chest.

I opened the door for her and held it while she stepped outside. She glanced at me.

"He said you could not go to the hospital until Internal Affairs cleared you-"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to tell him anything?"

I hesitated. There were lots of things I should tell Greg... but in the end I shook my head.

"I'll call him later."

"All right." she smiled.

But as she stepped away, all I could think was how better off Greg would be if I didn't talk to him.

Ever.

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TBC

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