Journey Through the Past- Chapter 41
Lucas Mallory smiled in spite of himself. He was able to get a message out to the Knights. Nearly twenty years in prison had taught him ways of getting messages in and out of an isolation cell. He had information they wanted about possible leaks within their own organization. The Knights would only get that information if they could aid in his escape and at the same time deliver Grissom back into his hands. He had patiently used his time in prison to build connections with various drug cartels. His efforts had paid off so far, and he would use those connections and the information he knew once again to escape and build a new comfortable life.
First, though, he had business to take care of. Vengeance against Grissom was still his number one priority. He wanted to see Grissom brought down and ruined. Mallory wasn't sure how the man was doing, but he did know that Grissom was still alive and recovering at Desert Palm Hospital. Captain Brass had told him as much.
The rattle of keys at his cell door brought him out of his reverie. As the door swung open, Mallory was greeted by the one of the guards assigned to his detail.
"Up, Mallory, time for the exercise court."
Mallory slowly stood up and stretched. He stepped out of the cell and let the two guards in the walkway shackle his wrists and ankles together with the long length of chain. When the prisoner was secured, the two guards each held onto the Mallory's arms as they escorted him down the row of cells and through another corridor, leading them to the enclosed exercise yard. It was approximately the size of half of a basketball court with four high cement walls.
Pushing Mallory into the cement courtyard, the two guards unlocked the shackles, taking the chains with them, and then shut the heavy metal door with a rather large bang.
Mallory rubbed his wrists ruefully and proceeded to jog around the court. It would not be good for him if he didn't stay in good physical shape.
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An hour after Mallory had been allowed in the exercise yard, Jim Brass entered his office at the police department. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that wouldn't go away. His many years in law enforcement told him that something was going down and his nerves were on high alert. Leaving the meeting with Jones and Grissom's team at the crime lab solidified those feelings. The police detective, upon leaving the crime lab, had immediately contacted County Lockup to check on Mallory. They had reported that everything was routine and that Mallory was back in his cell from the exercise yard. Everything seemed to be under control. Still, Brass couldn't help but feel that all hell was about the break loose. He shook his head, wondering if the last couple of weeks with too little sleep and too much worry were making him paranoid. Closing his door wearily, he sank down in his office chair and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Taking out his cordless razor, he quickly shaved off his 5 o'clock shadow and then slipped the razor back in the drawer. Opening Grissom's case file, Brass scanned through the transcripts of the interviews with Mallory, Scott, and Jones. Catherine was getting the team together to go back to the desert crime scene and sweep the area again. Catherine promised to notify Brass when they were ready to leave. Checking his watch, Brass impatiently drummed his fingers on the desk. The police detective decided that he would stay behind and re-interrogate both Baker and Lopez. Vartann had assigned a detail to keep Pritchard under surveillance. The chirping of his cell phone brought him out of his ponderings and noted "Willows" on the call ID.
Flipping his phone open, Brass snapped into the speaker, "It's about time, Catherine. I was beginning to think…"
"Jim," interrupted Catherine, "we won't be all going back up to Goldfield. I'm sending only Nick, Greg, and Scott up, but they're not leaving for at least a couple of hours. Something's come up."
"Catherine, what do you mean something's come up?"
"We've got a 419 out in Henderson. I'm going to need Nick and Greg with the preliminary processing and gathering of evidence. In fact, I think it might be a good idea that you accompany us. I'm surprised that Vartann hasn't called you."
"Why? What's going on, Cath?" as that feeling in the pit of his stomach started to creep back.
"The 419 is Officer Daniel Pritchard."
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Though it had only been barely 24 hours since Grissom had agreed to the change in his medication, the result had been a dramatic improvement in his physical recovery. The patient's strength was returning, making Grissom anxious to leave the hospital. Though his abdomen was tender from the gunshot wound and broken ribs, he was able to move about without sharp pain taking his breath away. His headaches continued, but they had been reduced to a dull ache just below the surface. The new meds had lessened the withdrawal, masking his body's need for the drugs. Grissom still suffered from the tremors, but they weren't as pronounced.
Dr. Taylor picked up Grissom's chart from the slot just outside of his patient's room. He smiled at the progress that Grissom was making. Amazing what one day and a change in meds can make in a patient's recovery. The doctor strolled into Grissom's room and paused to observe his patient seated in a wheelchair gazing out the window. Sara sat next to him as the soft sounds of jazz flowed through the room. Both of them had their backs to the door and so did not notice the doctor's entrance. Grissom's right hand was wrapped tightly around Sara's left. The young woman was speaking softly to him, but he seemed not to hear her as he continued to stare out the window.
Gil Grissom studied the desert landscape from the third floor window of his hospital room. Though Las Vegas was a metropolitan area, his sight took in the tall barren range of mountains west of the city, and he saw little of the civilization spread out before him. A mixture of emotions flowed through him. The woman beside him was speaking in a low quiet soothing voice, and he shut his eyes, taking comfort in her tone. Sara, her name was Sara. He instinctively knew her, felt an unspoken connection to this young woman, but he could remember little else. Strange that he should feel so comfortable with her, yet at the same time remembering as if it were yesterday the loss of Rachel. The hollowness he felt burned inside him and guilt crept its way into him, making him feel as though he had somehow abandoned and turned his back on his young wife who had died some ten years ago.
Sighing, Grissom turned his head and smiled weakly at the slender brunette sitting beside him. "Thank you," he hesitated, not sure what he was trying to say…"for being here. I…just wish that I could give you more."
Sara smiled back and whispered softly, "Gil, it will come. You just have to be patient. I'll be here for whatever happens."
Turning back to the window, Grissom nodded slightly and returned his gaze towards to the desert landscape, seemingly lost in thought. Sara gently pulled her hand from Grissom's grasp and slowly stood up, noticing for the first time that Dr. Taylor had entered the room.
"Good afternoon Doc. Gil seems to feel a little better today. The new meds are helping,"
Dr. Taylor nodded in agreement. Stepping further into the room, the doctor grinned at Sara.
"And how are you doing, Ms. Sidle? Are you getting enough rest yourself?"
"I'm doing okay. Better now that Gil's pain is under control. He's getting his strength back. The physical therapist and nurses have him up walking and doing some careful stretching."
"More like torture, if you ask me," came the dry reply from the man seated in the wheelchair. Grissom didn't bother to look up at the newest occupant in the room, but instead continued his gaze out the window.
Wrinkling his brow, Dr. Taylor said with a slight smirk, "I see that you are feeling better, but I'm not sure your mood has improved much."
Grissom cocked his head slightly and turned towards the doctor. "Feels good to get out of that bed. The nurses have had me walk around some. Nice to know my legs still work."
"Any dizziness or nausea when they had you stand up or walk?"
"Initially, but it eventually went away."
Taylor nodded, "Nothing unusual there. You've been flat on your back for awhile. I would have been surprised if you hadn't felt a little lightheaded. How are you feeling otherwise?"
"Better…I'm still battling the shaking but it's manageable. I'm able to keep food down and the pounding in my head is down to a dull roar."
The doctor made some notes on Grissom's chart. Scratching his head slightly, the doctor looked up from the chart and asked his patient, "Has Dr. Jones been in to see you today?"
Grissom shook his head.
"Hmmmm….he should be in sometime today. I'm seeing here on your chart that you haven't been sleeping much. Want to tell me what's going there? "
"Just restless, I guess," said Grissom wearily as he leaned back in his wheelchair, shutting his eyes.
"Gil," Sara said softly, "you should tell him. It's important. Your doctor needs to know."
Grissom instantly opened his eyes and shot Sara a quick look, a flash of anger crossed his face and then disappeared.
"I…I…haven't been sleeping well…nightmares. Um…when I wake up, I can't remember what the dream was about, just that I felt helpless, powerless. It's nothing I can't handle."
Sara sighed and rolled her eyes. "Grissom, I think I could use something cold to drink. Can I get you anything?"
Grissom shook his head and gave her a wan smile. "Thanks, though."
"Right. I'll be back in a little while. I could a little fresh air."
Both Grissom and Dr. Taylor watched the slender brunette stroll out the door. The doctor turned back to his patient.
"You know, you might cut her a break. She cares about you," Taylor said softly.
Grissom was tempted to tell the doctor to mind his own business but thought better of it. Instead, he replied, "I just want to remember and get my life back. I…I …feel that I'm in limbo here. Listen, when can I get out of here. Maybe a change of scenery, seeing where I live, where I work will jog something loose. I'm starting to feel a little confined here."
The doctor nodded his understanding. "Some things don't change. As I recall, when I treated you here a few weeks ago, you were quite anxious to leave. I would like to consult with Dr. Jones about your release. He should be in shortly. He'll want to monitor your physical recovery closely and start your physical withdrawal. The "cold turkey" approach will cause more problems than its worth. That all means that I doubt he'll want you on "out-patient" status. Just hang in there and be patient."
Grissom swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the desert landscape. If he heard one more person telling him to be patient, he thought he might just explode. Clenching his fists with frustration, Grissom merely nodded.
"Grissom, what can you remember? I know that you can't remember why you're here, but what about your life in Las Vegas?" asked the doctor.
"Everything is a blank after coming to Las Vegas. I have isolated memories of crime scenes and working on cases, but there isn't any continuity. I see members of the team. I see their faces, but it's like just still photographs," said Grissom slowly and then looked up at the doctor.
"I'm familiar with the possible repercussions of my injuries and the fallout of what drug dependency can do with the human brain. I have a hard time believing that I'm really addicted to all these substances that Dr. Jones has listed out. I'm aware of that I'm being investigated and what I'm being investigated for. I just wish that I could fill in the holes," said Grissom in a slightly impatient tone.
"Gil, I wish that we could fill in those holes, but your memories have to be what you remember and can't be influenced by outside resources. I think it would be easy to fill the holes for you, but we run into danger of confabulation. We want to make sure that what you're remembering are real memories and not ones that are mixed up with imagination or false impressions," Dr. Taylor explained to his patient.
"Griss, that's why when you ask questions about us, I'm reluctant to answer. My memories can't become yours. You need to be able to distinguish between what's real and what is imagined. You won't be able to tell the difference if you rely on others to fill in those holes," Sara interjected as she stepped back into the room.
"You weren't gone very long," commented Grissom.
Sara shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't snap Dr. Taylor's head off."
Dr. Taylor jogged some final notes on Grissom's chart. "I think I can handle your guy here. He's all bark, no bite," said the doctor with a grin. Taking a couple of steps towards his patient, Taylor stood next to his patient.
"Gil, I would like to check your sutures. They should be ready to come out in a day or so. As much as you don't want to be back in the bed, I will need you to lay down in the bed. I'm going to start with your head and work my way down, okay?"
Grissom turned the wheelchair to face the doctor, slowly stood up and gingerly got back into the bed with the help of both Sara and the doctor. Grissom quietly acquiesced to the examination.
"Well, Gil, those stitches are about ready to come out. I think we'll give it another day. I'd like to keep you on the IV for another couple of days. You're still getting IV antibiotics and we can administer your pain meds through the IV. When we take the IV out, we'll need to switch to oral meds which won't be as effective in controlling the tremors, cramps, or nausea. I'll discuss all this with Dr. Jones when he comes in."
Grissom relaxed against his pillows as the doctor stood up to leave. The feeling of restlessness was overwhelming him, whether that was because he was tired of being cooped up being in the hospital or because his nerves were on edge because of the physical withdrawal, he couldn't be sure. He only knew that he needed to do something, anything, but to stay in this hospital.
Looking up at Sara, Grissom asked her, " How about we go for a walk? I understand the hospital has a nice arboretum."
Sara gave Grissom a bright smile. "Sure, that sounds nice." She helped the injured man out of the bed and helped him put on the light terrycloth hospital robe. Slowly, they made their way out of the room with Grissom pulling his IV pole beside him.
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A/N: My apologies for the long time between posts. Hopefully my next post won't be so long in coming. The school year is ending and final grades are due in a couple of days so hopefully, I will have more time starting Wednesday to write. Life happens….Besides a college graduation to attend (last week), a bridal shower, a high school graduation, and the not unexpected death of a favorite uncle, life has been terribly crazy. Thanks for those have hung in there with me. This chapter was a difficult one as far as Grissom was concerned, but after several attempts, I think I've got him pointed the way I want him to go. Please review. Thanks.