A/N: WAHOO!!!!! I do believe that I am on a roll. We are one chapter closer to catching that SOB. Which I have been hearing repeated demands for. So don't think that I have forgotten him.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to JellyBeanChiChi for once again doing an awesome beta job. And thank you to everyone who has been reviewing ans especially reviewing 27. I got some great reviews on that one and if they were any indication I would say have to say that you're all peeping toms, or tomets:D
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Chapter Twenty-Eight
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The next few days had been especially difficult for Gil. He had not had another violent outburst since his fight with Nick, but he would regularly wake up in the night screaming. He would beg for mercy and beg Shelling not to hurt his beloved.
Whoever was there would do their best to calm him and lull him back to sleep. If Sara was working he would demand to call her and make sure that she was okay, but most times his nighttime guardian would already have her number dialed on the phone. She knew that when they called her at work it was most likely Gil needing reassurance. One night Catherine had even found herself humming an old lullaby that she hadn't heard since Lindsey was a baby.
Stacey had come down with a bad case of the flu and had needed to cancel Gil's next appointment and reschedule. Styacey had lined Gil up to see another therapist, but Gil had refussed and said that he would wait until Stacey was better. Gil's agitation grew the longer he had to wait to see Stacey. He paced until his knee demanded respite and in the quiet moments when he sat and tried to rest his mind would slip away and his dark fantasies would return. He would think about them until he caught himself and would shake it off before pacing again.
The team tried to be tolerant of his mood swings. They knew that his irritability had been caused by his injuries and Gil did an admirable job of controlling himself under the circumstance. One would have thought that Jim would have had the hardest time coping with Gil's outbursts, being the retired Marine that he was. It didn't take much to irritate Gil and the persistent shakes in his hands made everything worse.
One morning Gil tried to pour a cup of coffee five separate times. Each time it sloshed over the sides until the counter and floor were a flood of coffee and the front of his clothes were soaked. Gil spun around and threw the cup at the far wall, his rage fueling his pitch. The ceramic mug shattered into dozens of pieces and Jim, who sat at the table eating his breakfast, jumped out of his seat and mimicked an umpire.
"You're out!" Jim yelled at no one, taking Gil by surprise. Jim looked at Gil and grinned. "Nice pitch, buddy."
Gil dropped his head, embarrassed by his outburst, and apologized. Jim walked over to the counter and grabbed the roll of paper towels. He ripped off several sheets of paper towel and handed them to Gil to mop up the coffee on the counter. Before kneeling to clean the mess on the floor Jim looked at his friend.
"I see it as an improvement, Gil." Gil looked at Jim and frowned as he quirked an incredulous eyebrow. "At least you're not taking it out on yourself anymore." Jim smiled warmly and proceeded to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor.
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On the day Stacey could see Gil, Sara was called to court and asked Jim to take him to his appointment. The two sat together in Stacey's empty waiting room.
"Good morning, Gil," Stacey held out his hand, which Gil looked at reluctantly. Stacey smiled apologetically and began to withdraw his hand.
Gil grabbed the therapist's hand and shook it quickly before pulling away. Stacey smiled and only held Gil's hand with the same amount of pressure that Gil was willing to express. He gestured for Gil to have a seat and remarked on his new knee brace.
"Does that make it easier for you to get around, Gil?"
"Yeah." Gil nodded as he carefully stretched his bad leg out on the sofa. "It's made a big difference."
"I apologize for not seeing you earlier," Stacey said, receiving an understanding gesture from Gil. "So, tell me about your week since we last met."
Gil grinned at the memory of making love to Sara just a few days before, and the tender moments they had been able to share because of it. "Yeah, Sara and I… w-we… made love, but the first time…" It was difficult for Gil to share something so personal with someone else, even a therapist. "The first time I couldn't finish…"
"And why was that, Gil?"
Gil told him of the two occasions they had made love. He told Stacey of the flashbacks and the fantasy of hurting Sara. Then Gil told him of the of the way that Sara had helped him overcome his greatest fear, of hurting her, and how much she had trusted him and he had trusted her.
"I sense there's a 'but' in this happy chapter, though?" Stacey asked when Gil had finished.
Gil looked down at the floor for a long time before he was able to answer the doctor's question. "At night I have horrible nightmares. I see Shelling doing horrendous things to Sara… and their so v-vivid. I even get v-violent during some of them… I hurt a friend, but I haven't been v-violent again like that for a few days."
"But you still have these nightmares?" Gil nodded.
"And during the day… I have these… graphic fantasies…"
"When you're awake?" Gil nodded again. "Tell me about these fantasies."
"In them I… exact an awful revenge on my tormentors. I do the same things to them that they did to me, only… w-worse."
"Does it bother you that you have these thoughts, Gil?"
"Yes. It's not me. I'm not a v-violent man, and these thoughts… are so hateful. " Gil looked at the floor, lost in thought.
"Gil," Stacey sat forward to get his patient's attention. "It is normal for you to fantasize about getting revenge against those that hurt you. Most rape victims, especially those that are male, have these fantasies. It's normal for anyone who has been hurt to want revenge. What's important is what you do with these feelings." Gil looked up at the other man and earnestly thought about his words. "Do you want revenge, Gil?"
Gil thought for a long moment before he was able to answer. Despite the fantasies he had never really thought about whether he actually wanted revenge or not, and this was the first time that anyone had asked him that.
"No," he quietly replied. "I w-want to move on w-with my life."
"Good," Stacey smiled. "That was the answer I was hoping for."
Stacey rose from his chair and crossed the room to his desk. Gil watched curiously as he pulled a sheet of paper off the top of a pile and crossed the room again to reclaim his seat. "I have something that I want you to do, Gil." Stacey said as he handed Gil the sheet of paper. Gil looked at the plain white paper that contained a list of questions. When he had quickly skimmed through the list he looked up at Stacey and awaited an explanation.
"I give this list to all of my patients when they are ready to move forward with their lives and put what happened behind them. You're at that point, Gil. You have decided that you don't want to dwell on what happened and that revenge will get you no where. During the day, when you have these fantasies, what you need is a distraction to break that train of thought. I want you to get a special journal or notebook, something that's going to be significant to you, and every time that you have one of these fantasies break that train of thought and sit down and answer one of those questions. Write out the question and your answer. Take your time and date it too, that way sometime in the future you can look back and see all of the progress that you have made."
"And w-what about the nightmares?" Gil asked after a moment.
"Do you sleep at night, Gil?"
"Not really."
"Did Doctor Diller prescribe you a sleep aide?"
"Yes, I take Ambien."
"Hmmm…" Stacey pondered Gil's answer for a moment before speaking. "I read an unofficial study about a month ago that was written by a research doctor about Ambien. It said that some people that take it have been known to have terrible nightmares, and some even become violent in their sleep."
Gil felt his hopes rise at this new piece of information. Could it be that the main catalyst for his night time violence was something that was meant to help him? He realized that Stacey was trying to get his attention and that his thoughts had drifted beyond their conversation.
"Gil, I want you to call Doctor Diller and tell him what you told me about the nightmares. Tell him that they are intense and constant, and that you have been violent during them. Tell him that you want to stop taking the Ambien and need something else."
When they had finished their session and both men had risen from their seats Gil paused reluctantly. Stacey watched Gil's hesitation curiously and smiled when Gil reluctantly held out his hand to shake. Stacey was touched by the older man's courage and gently shook his hand.
"Have a good week, Gil, and I'll see you in a few days." As Stacey walked Gil to the door he stopped and pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Gil. "Have you given any further thought to group therapy, Gil?"
Gil took the card and read it. "I've thought about it," he shrugged. "But I don't know if I'm ready to step out like that yet."
"That's okay, Gil, you need to take your time at this. The recovery process is a long, hard road but you you're going to make it, Gil." Stacey's warm smile enforced his comment and Gil nodded gratefully.
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After leaving Stacey's office Jim drove him to the Desert Palm Hospital, which was not far from the office building and Gil was surprised that he had been able to see Doctor Diller at all. Stephen Diller had been shocked by Gil's news and immediately took him off the Ambien and prescribed him a new sleep med.
On the way home Gil asked Jim to stop at a book store. They sat in the parking space for a long time while Gil looked at the building. Jim watched his friend with concern and saw the fear in his eyes. "You okay, Gil?"
The sound of Jim's voice startled Gil and he looked at his friend. "Yeah… I just…"
"We can go home if you want."
"No, I need a new journal."
"Do you want me to go get you one?"
"Thanks, but I need to pick it out myself." Gil sighed. "I just…"
"I know, being in a public place must be tough for you." Jim said calmly. "Why don't we go in together and I'll stay right by your side."
Gil closed his eyes. He was again assaulted with feelings of resentment that Jim felt that he needed to hold Gil's hand in public. Gil took a deep breath and let out a long sigh as Stacey's words floated in his mind. "Okay." Was all Gil said and they went into the store.
Jim stood next to Gil at the front of the store as the two men surveyed the number of bookcases before them. A young man approached them with a broad smile on his face and a heartfelt greeting. "Good morning, gentleman, how are you today?"
Gil stiffened at the man's forwardness and Jim touched his hand to Gil's elbow, reassuring his friend that he was there. The young man's resemblance to Michael O'Tool was frightening. The same red hair, only without the green highlights, and styled the same way. He had the same green eyes and the same freckles. Gil had noticed his other, similar features, but it was the hair that stuck out the most. For a moment, he thought he was looking at the man that had tormented him.
"We're good." Jim replied with a smile, but remained mindful of Gil's posture. "Where do you keep your journals?"
They followed the young man as he lead them to the back of the store and a full rack of journals. It took all of Gil's strength to make his legs move. His breathing increased and became ragged.
"You okay?" Jim whispered as he watched his friend with concern. "You want to get out of here?"
Gil wanted nothing more than to run out of that store and go home. He wanted to get away from the young man who sent shivers through his body, though the clerk was oblivious to the reaction that he caused. When Jim thanked him for his help the young man left them to attend another customer but Gil remained tense and afraid.
"You okay?" Jim asked again, concerned for his friend, and Gil nodded as he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
Gil wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he knew this was something he had to beat and he took a deep, calming breath and forced himself to relax a little. He skimmed the multitude of journals with his eyes but nothing stuck out to him. Until his eyes fell on the one with the brown leather binding and he pulled it off the shelf. It wore a simple brown, leather cover and on the front was a single, blue butterfly. Jim watched his friend silently as he traced the winged creature with his finger. It seemed as though the two shared a connection… a bond.
"I'm ready." Gil said solemnly and they made their way to the counter.
Gil stiffened again when he saw the young man ready to check them out. He felt reassured when Jim lightly touched his elbow again and set his new journal on the counter. After he had paid for his merchandise Gil couldn't get out of the store fast enough. He didn't look back as he and Jim left, but if he had he would have seen the young man whispering a joke to one of his colleagues as they watched the two men leave.
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That afternoon, while Jim and Sara slept, Gil relaxed on the couch. He sat up straight when he realized that he had been having another fantasy and opened his new journal and took out the list of questions. He looked at the first question and wrote it on the first page of his journal.
"What is good in my life?"
Gil thought about his answer for a long time before he began to write. Gil proceeded to use the first two pages to tell about his friends who had all been a great support and strength. He wrote about how Sara had helped him and made him feel. He wrote about the comfort the others had given him when he was so vulnerable and scared. He even added a few lines about the devotion Hank had shown by never leaving his side.
When he was done Gil looked over what he had written and set the book on the coffee table with a satisfied smile. He reveled at how much better he felt when his thoughts dwelled on the answer to the first question and not the thoughts of revenge. It felt like a great weight had been lifted off his chest, and off his heart.
Gil looked down at Hank who lazily lay on the couch beside him. He scratched the boxer's ears and smiled when he raised his brown eyes to look up at his dad and his ears perked when Gil spoke.
"What do you think, boy? Are you hungry?" Hank immediately jumped off the couch and danced in an excited circle. Gil laughed. "Yeah, you hungry, boy?"
Hank danced in his stationary circle again as Gil rose from the couch and grabbed his cane. As Gil made his way to the kitchen Hank became more excited. It wasn't the thought of food that excited the pooch. He could sense a change in his dad. The tension that he had sensed when Gil was on the couch was gone and he felt a happiness about his best friend that excited him.
Hank pranced around Gil and ran to his basket of toys in the corner. He grabbed his favorite toy, a thick rope that was knotted on both ends, and ran back over to Gil. He crouched playfully on his front legs and let out a soft, challenging growl.
Gil stopped and looked down at the boxer. "Oh, is that what you want?" He smiled as he reached down and grabbed the other end of the rope. He pulled hard against Hank but the boxer would not budge. "Give me that rope, you mutt!" Gil growled as he pulled hard on his end.
Hank thrashed his head from side to side as he dug his claws into the carpet and pulled back with all his strength. Gil matched the dog's growl as he gritted his teeth and pulled against Hank's surprising strength. "Give it to me, you brute!" Gil dug his heels into the carpet and dropped his cane for a better grip.
Hank gave one final, hard pull and Gil lost his footing. He fell hard on his right side but did not relinquish his grip on the rope. "You friggin' mutt!" Gil laughed and Hank let go of the rope. The boxer rushed around to Gil's side and began to lick his face with an excited ferocity.
"Get off of me, you cheating, son-of-a-bitch!" Gil laughed as he tried to defend himself against the dog's assault. "HANK!!!" Gil choked passed his laughter.
He finally pushed the boxer off and struggled to sit up. He felt hands grab him under his arms and pull him up into a sitting position. Gil looked up to see the concerned look on Sara's face and started laughing again. He helplessly wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to calm himself.
"Are you okay?" Sara tried to hold her concerned look but a smile broke onto her face and she could not deny the good feelings that grew in her to see and hear him so genuinely happy.
"Ye… ye… yeah." Gil finally managed as he held his sides and quelled his laughter. He bared his teeth at Hank and playfully growled as he spoke. "This mutt is trying to beat me up."
He made a playful grab for the dog but Hank crouched again and barked at his buddy. Sara laughed and looked up to see a sleepy looking Jim walk out of the hallway. "What the hell's going on out here?" Jim rubbed his eyes and saw Gil sitting on the floor. "Gil, you okay?"
"I'm fine, Jim," he laughed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you guys."
"All's forgiven; I'm just overjoyed to see you so happy." Sara caressed his face with her hand as tears welled in her eyes.
Gil kissed her palm and then her lips. They helped him to his feet and Jim handed him his cane. "You hurt, Gil?"
"No, Jim, I think I'm fine." He looked at his watch and realized what time it was. "You guys hungry? I can fix you a bite to eat before you leave."
Sara and Jim looked at each other, surprised by the change, and said yes. Gil happily busied himself in the kitchen while the two went to shower. He answered the door when he heard the bell and smiled as he ushered Warrick inside.
"Hey, Grissom," Warrick was surprised to see Gil open the door for him, but not as much as the light-heartedness of his friend and mentor.
"Hey, Warrick, are you hungry?" He lead the younger man into the kitchen. "I just finished dinner."
The four friends sat around the table and ate meal that Gil had made with little assistance. They laughed and enjoyed the conversation until Jim and Sara had to leave. Warrick had offered to help Gil clean up the mess but Gil had been insistent that he wanted to do it himself.
The two men had enjoyed a quiet evening and finished their game of chess before retiring for the night. Gil had told Warrick that he could make it upstairs by himself and wished the younger man a good night before calling Hank to join him.
That night he flushed his Ambien and started taking the new sleep med. But his nightmare returned. Gil slowly writhed under the covers as his body was covered in sweat.
Shelling forcefully pulled Sara out Gil's arms. She screamed his name and Gil felt chains wrap around his body and pull him back when he reached for her. "SARA!!!" He struggled against the invisible restraints as he screamed her name. "SARA!!!"
"SARA!!!" Gil screamed as he bolted upright in bed and fought the blankets that were wrapped around his legs.
Warrick rushed through the door and around the bed, ready to duck. He grabbed Gil's arms. "You're okay, Griss, you're okay!"
Gil tried to escape the younger man's grip but when Warrick called to him a second time he stopped struggling and realized his surroundings. He slowly kicked off the covers, with Warrick's help, and put his feet on the floor as he held his head in his hands. His body shuddered as the realism of the nightmare clung to him.
"You okay?" Warrick asked as he handed Gil a cold glass of water.
Gil looked up, surprised, as he hadn't noticed Warrick leave and accepted the cold drink thankfully. He drank it down and set the glass on the nightstand. After a long moment Gil took a deep, shuddering breath and let a long troubled sigh.
"It t-takes time…" Gil verbally reminded himself and Warrick nodded as he sat on the bed next to his mentor. "Diller said that it w-would be a few days before the Ambien w-would be out of my system."
"You want me to stay up here, man?"
"No," Gil replied quietly after thinking about it for a moment. "I just… w-want it to go away."
"I know, man, I know." Warrick put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "It will, just give it time."
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A/N: Hello, my name is Esther and I attend the Writers In The Closet Association, where I'm not only a member I'm the president. It is a place for unheralded writers, who have the talent but not the fame, to gather and wait in painful anticipation for a little credit and a few compliments. We are a desperate group that are starved for what little credit we feel is due us. We crave to have our lustful ego's stroked. (it's not as dirty as it sounds, but it feels oh... so... good)We are a misunderstood group of women who just like to have our buttons pushed. So please, won't you push my button?
I know, I know, that sounded weird and gross, but you have no idea how long it took me to come up with that;) Somewhere... someone... is shaking their head in disbelief and disgust right now as they are assaulted by the worst images ever. By the way my favorite line in 27 was, "Come for me, Esther. Feel your release and come for me." OH COME ON!!! You were thinking the exact same thing!
