Author's note: Thank you again for such wonderful reviews! I couldn't help but get right into this chapter after reading all of that. You made my week.
As always, clearly, these characters aren't mine.
Feedback is a joy, and so very much appreciated.
Moments of Truth
Chapter Five
It was an almost unconscious rebellion.
Sara didn't wear a watch anymore.
Time was the enemy now, almost more so than cancer or Hepatitis C.
There was no stopping it, no fighting it, no use in pleading with the heavens for more.
And the tiny little spinning second hand had been mocking her.
So she didn't wear a watch anymore.
It wasn't like she needed it. She'd been through her first round of chemotherapy and was officially off of work. The only appointments she had during these trying days were at the hospital, and she couldn't have lost track of those if she'd tried.
The closest she got to actually working was discussing recent cases over a meal with the rest of the team. Those times were also the closest she got to feeling normal, and for that reason she was looking forward to her evening tonight.
She stood in front of her dresser in her bedroom, well aware that Grissom was ready to go and waiting for her in the living room, and he had been for a while.
She was staring at her hairbrush.
It wasn't the first time she'd noticed far too much hair in her brush, on the floor, on her shirt. It had been happening for days.
It always threw her, and it wasn't about vanity.
It was about that horrible and now familiar feeling that she'd won the battle and lost the war.
"You can't tell."
Sara looked up sharply, startled, and saw Grissom behind her in the mirror's reflection.
"I know you feel like you're losing a lot of your hair, but it's not obvious to anyone but you."
Sara nodded numbly.
He was trying to be reassuring, and she knew that.
But appearance had so little to do with it.
"And you look very nice tonight," he added, and she offered him a small smile, their eyes meeting in the mirror.
"You do too," she told him, and she meant it, even though they weren't dressed up in the least.
Their 'night out' was pizza with the gang at Catherine's place. She was in blue jeans and a sweater, and he looked ready for work.
"Do you feel up to this?" Grissom questioned her gently, moving forward, standing against her now rather than just behind her.
"I do."
"No nausea?"
She shook her head in the negative, and then turned to face him with an uneasy smile.
"Ask me again this time tomorrow."
Both of their faces registered a look of mild dread.
Tomorrow.
Only a day away.
The beginning of a second round of chemotherapy; one that was expected to be much more severe than the first.
"But there's still tonight," Sara reminded him and herself, genuinely thankful for the fact.
"And the night is young," Grissom offered with a smile that became vaguely amused. "Unlike me."
Sara smiled and shook her head, finally replaced the hairbrush she was still gripping on top of her dresser, and headed for the door.
He was right behind her, and she grabbed his car keys off of the table nearest the door and tossed them to him.
He caught them, and a moment later they were in the car and on their way.
…
When Grissom knocked on Catherine's front door, he was hit by a brief and uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu.
He'd been here just days ago, and he'd been far more broken than he cared to remember.
The reality of Sara's situation had hit them both hard and fast and suddenly, just as predicted.
The peaceful joy of waking up in bed together, the third time it had happened, had been marred by pain. It effectively destroyed the pretending they'd been doing, and that broke her.
She'd twisted uncomfortably on the bed next to him, and wouldn't let him comfort her.
She'd sobbed soon after that, for the horrible truth rather than any physical pain, and she hadn't let him hold her then, either.
He'd waited with her, done what he could, and later spent a good two hours sitting on Catherine's living room couch, staring blindly at the television, occasionally feeling tears on his cheeks, grateful that Sara wasn't there to see it.
Greg was sprawled out on that couch now as Grissom and Sara came in, and a quick glance around told Grissom that they were the last to arrive. Nick and Warrick were leaning against the far wall, beers in hand, as Catherine led the way from the front door into the house.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Catherine said with mock annoyance, grabbing the portable phone off of an end table.
"About time," Warrick agreed, his tone matching Catherine's.
"Sit, relax," Catherine ordered, and Greg sat up and made room on the couch, and gestured for Sara to join him. She sat down rather slowly and gingerly, which wasn't lost on any of them.
"Okay, uh, I've got sodas, I've got mineral water…" Catherine paused, and looked over at Grissom specifically. "And I've got beer. What'll it be?"
"I'll take the water," Sara answered her, and Grissom just nodded in agreement.
"'Bout time we ordered that pizza, Cath," Nick said hopefully, and Catherine nodded, then looked at Sara uncertainly.
"I was thinking we'd get half a pizza just vegetarian, but if there's something that would be easier on your stomach --"
"S'fine," Sara told her quickly. "I'm fine. Veggie's good."
Catherine nodded and looked down at the phone in her hands, a little uncomfortable.
None of them were quite sure if Sara's health (or lack thereof) was a taboo subject tonight or not.
"So tell me about this likely-serial-ritual case," Sara said casually after a moment, effectively changing the subject, and everyone breathed a little bit easier.
"Our perp's a freak, I can tell you that," Warrick said, shaking his head and taking a long sip of his beer.
He and Nick launched into the tale of their bizarre serial killer, and Catherine went off to order the pizza, and Sara felt herself starting to relax.
It didn't occur to her that she might have been relaxing more than she'd intended to until the sound of a doorbell jerked her out of a lazy state of half-sleep. She looked around discreetly, wondering when exactly Greg had gotten up and Grissom had taken his place next to her.
"Pizza's here," Grissom said simply, and the look on his face was one of simple understanding, telling her without words that no one would blame her for dozing off.
Noting that the guys were now all busily tearing into pizza boxes in the kitchen area, Sara stood up and allowed herself to yawn and stretch.
"Remind me, where's Cath's bathroom?"
Grissom gestured down the hallway.
"Second on the left."
"Go get some pizza," she told him, by way of fending off the usual 'are you okay?' or its variation, and then she started down the hallway.
She didn't really need the washroom, but she took a moment to splash some water on her face and examine herself in the mirror. She was staring at her reflection willing some color to come to her cheeks when Lindsey's voice floated in through the air vents near the ceiling, from her attached bedroom.
"He's stupid! He's just a stupid, stupid, stupid boy!"
Sara looked up at the vent, recognizing the tone immediately as one that said the poor kid wanted to be angry, but feelings of hurt were winning out.
Been there, done that, she thought gloomily.
She wondered for a moment if she should suggest to Catherine that she check on Lindsey, but then Catherine's muffled voice reached her ears, and she realized she was already there.
She turned back to the mirror, trying not to pay much attention to the sounds of the broken-hearted thirteen-year-old sobbing.
When she left the bathroom she had to pass by Lindsey's room, and she couldn't help pausing for just a second, taking in the scene through the slightly open door.
Catherine held a crying Lindsey in a warm embrace on the bed, whispering something inaudible into her ear, rocking them both back and forth slightly.
And somehow, out of nowhere, Sara was struck with the thought that it was beautiful.
It caught her off guard when Catherine glanced up and their eyes met briefly, but Catherine only smiled softly and shook her head slightly in a way that said resignedly 'what can you do?'.
Sara shut the door for her and quickly returned to the kitchen.
…
By the time Catherine emerged from Lindsey's bedroom and joined the rest of the team, everyone was settled in with pizza and drinks.
Sara caught her gaze.
"She okay?" she asked, her tone conversational but sympathetic.
"What's up?" Warrick asked, before Catherine had a chance to answer.
Catherine shook her head with a sigh and grabbed a beer.
"School dance," she told them simply. "Kids can be idiots."
"You can say that again," Greg piped up, biting into his slice of pizza. "I didn't like teenagers even when I was one."
"She has a crush on some jackass, so apparently she takes after me," Catherine told them, smiling thinly and taking a sip of her beer. "She asked him to dance, he laughed in her face."
Sara winced visibly.
"She needs a big brother," she announced, and then thought better of it. "Or maybe not. Mine broke my crush's nose and did sixty hours community service for assault."
"You've got a brother?" Greg asked, clearly surprised.
Sara nodded and sipped from her bottle of water.
"Haven't seen him in a lot of years, though," she explained. "I couldn't even tell you where he is these days."
She shrugged, hoping they'd drop it. Thankfully Nick picked up the discussion with a story about playing hero for one of his own sisters.
Wrapped up in chatting with her friends and eating what was likely the last meal she'd have on a relatively settled stomach for a while, Sara didn't pay much attention to the expression on Grissom's face.
But if she had, she might have seen the wheels in his head turning.
…
Somewhere along the line the talk turned from teen years and siblings to criminology and their not-so-esteemed 'leader'.
It was around the time a slightly inebriated Greg shouted out "I once told Ecklie to go to hell!" that Sara finally turned to face Grissom, wondering at his long period of silence.
The others all looked at Greg incredulously, and Nick finally tossed out a dismissive "Liar!" and took a swig of his beer, leading Greg to mumble "Maybe it wasn't out loud…" into his own bottle.
Grissom broke out of his trance, unaware of Sara's intent gaze, and smiled.
"I once told Ecklie his focus on advancing his career was just sad."
He glanced from the others to Sara, expecting an approving smile, and found her looking playfully competitive instead.
"I once told Ecklie the lab is only his because you don't kiss ass.".
There was a brief moment of surprised silence, followed by quiet chuckling.
"Guess we have a winner," Warrick mumbled.
"You 'da man, Sara," Nick slurred, leading them all to wonder if perhaps he was a little bit more drunk than anyone had thought.
Sara looked over at him, and her smile quickly faded as their eyes met and a distinct sadness came over his face, in spite of the effects of the alcohol.
Things wrapped up quickly after that.
Sara had a difficult day tomorrow, after all, and though none of them spoke of it, they all knew.
The only noticeable difference between how this night ended and how a similar night would have ended weeks ago was that Sara received four quick but heartfelt hugs before she left the house.
As she and Grissom made they way down the driveway to his car, he suddenly grabbed for her hand and stopped her cold.
"What?" she asked quickly, and he smiled a tired but amused smile. "What?" she asked again, completely confused.
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper.
"I once told Ecklie I needed you."
He left it at that and strolled down to the car, leaving her standing there speechless for a moment.
When she sat down heavily in the passenger seat seconds later, they both kept their eyes on the road in front of them.
"Guess you win," she told him teasingly, though not without emotion.
"Guess I do."
Content for the moment, they drove off.
…
The feelings of contentment died almost as soon as they got back to her place.
The night was almost over, after all. There was nothing left to do but wait for the dreaded morning.
He'd taken both this night and the next one off, despite her insistence that he didn't need to.
She moved into her bedroom wordlessly, and he locked the outside door and followed her. She pulled off her shoes and let herself fall on her bed, and after a moment he sat down on what had become his side.
"Are you thinking about tomorrow?"
"Thinking about Catherine," she answered truthfully, automatically, and then clarified when his eyes narrowed. "And Lindsey. The whole mother-daughter thing."
"And your mother is…?" Grissom asked, but she only shook her head.
"Not what I was getting at," Sara said. "I'm just thinking… you know I never, ever felt like I was in a place where I wanted to have kids," she mused contemplatively. "I mean, if I'd ever found myself pregnant at any point in the last however many years, I would have been…" She searched for the right word. "Panicked. Initially, at least."
"Well, it's not as if you and…?" Grissom waited, hoping she couldn't hear the conspiratorial note in his tone.
"Hmmm?"
"Your brother?"
"Josh," she filled in, oblivious to the fact that he mentally grabbed the word and clung to it.
"Well, it's not as if you and Josh had a happy childhood home," he pointed out, hoping she'd open up and give him some details about this Josh. "It's natural that you would be wary."
She nodded, more in acknowledgement than agreement, lost in her own thoughts.
"I think after a while I'd be torn, though. Freaked out, but… torn. 'Cause, I mean, you're right, I never had a great role model… no reason to believe I could do the mom thing well… science is what I get, family is… it's where I fail miserably…" She stopped, took a few deep breaths to control herself. She hadn't cried today, and didn't want to start now. "But you know on the flip side," she started up again, "Maybe… maybe there's something about the idea of building the family you never had… that's… that's just kind of… precious…"
She was in her own world now. She might as well have been talking to herself, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above her head.
"Maybe… maybe it's just the whole grass-is-always-greener thing… that people don't know what they've got 'til it's gone… But I was watching them tonight, just for a second, Catherine and Lindsey, I mean… and maybe it's just that I have a history of wanting what I can't have, or at least when I can't have it, but…"
She stopped before she let her voice break. There had been too much of that lately.
But she didn't trust herself to speak, and so she left the rest unsaid.
Watching her, Grissom resigned himself to the fact that it wasn't the time to question her, about her brother or mother or anyone else. He already knew from what she'd said to Nick that she likely had at least one living relative, whether he was in her life or not.
That was more than he'd had yesterday, and the tiniest ray of hope had worked its way into his heart already.
He suggested to Sara that she get into bed and get some sleep, and as she did so he went out into her living room, pulled out her laptop and got to work.
He spent a half hour or so researching living donor liver transplants. By the end of that time he had taken careful note of the most significant facts; the ones he would use to convince Sara – to beg Sara, if necessary.
The risk to the life of the person donating a portion of his or her own liver was estimated at 1 or less.
Barring any complications, the donor's liver would regenerate to full size and capability within a few weeks.
Blood type and blood vessel variations in the liver itself were most likely to be compatible between close relatives.
Like siblings.
Grissom shut the laptop with a satisfactory click, and his mind raced.
It was possible.
There were a lot of hurdles, but it was possible.
To hell with the 15 000-strong cadaveric liver waiting list.
To hell with Sara's reservations, too.
Whatever issues kept her from looking for her brother were secondary to her health – her very life.
Grissom stood up on shaky legs and glanced through the slightly open bedroom door. Seeing Sara fast asleep in bed, he turned and walked back into the other room, grabbing his cell phone and hitting a speed dial button as he went.
"Yeah, Brass, it's Grissom," he said quickly, trying to keep his voice quiet. "I need a favor… off the record. I need you to see what you can find on a Joshua Sidle, he's Sara's brother… Every database you've got… Yeah, me too. And Jim? This is between you and me for now."
Grissom hung up without saying goodbye.
He stood silently in the middle of Sara's living room for a long moment, reeling.
Maybe…
He wandered into her room, watched her sleep, marveled at the fact that he actually had a particular side of her bed designated for him now.
Maybe, maybe…
He lay down next to her.
Tomorrow was likely going to be a kind of living hell for her.
So was the day after that.
And the day after that.
But maybe, maybe, maybe…
There just might be a light at the end of this horrendous tunnel.
And that meant a lot.
That was everything.
…