A/N: Thank you for reading- we appreciate hearing from you!
Thanatos
Chapter 3
Jim Brass considered Las Vegas to be his home, and while Catherine Willows was out of the room, he quietly told Sara of plans made long ago. When her eyes filled with tears, he handed her a tissue.
"I'm surprised to have lived this long," he said with a soft chuckle. "I nearly bit the dust when I was shot in 2006—I've had good years since then—and I can say, the best part of my life has been—has been your two kids." Another chuckle, "Seeing Gil Grissom having fun—real fun—with his kids has helped me see the good in this world." His hand touched Sara's arm giving it a pat as he said, "You and Gil are doing good—you're good parents."
Sara's response was lost when Catherine came blasting through the door, holding her phone aloft. "These things are going to be the bane of my existence!" She made a show of turning her cell phone off and shoving in it her pocket. "Now, what did I miss?"
Sara dropped her head.
Waving his hand in the air, Jim said, "Just my plans to be buried…"
"Oh! Jim—I—do you really want to discuss this? We'll take care of everything when that time comes," said Catherine as she moved a chair and sat down next to the bed. With that, she dug into her handbag and brought out a book. "I got the newest John Sanford—I know you like his books."
Reaching across the bed, Sara took the book, flipping pages for a moment. She doubted Brass could hold the book much less read it in his state. She said, "I'll read it to you, Jim. I can sit here as long as you want to listen."
A brief smile appeared on Jim's face before he said, "I want to ask for something—I'll need your help—both of you."
Sara and Catherine leaned forward as the weak man raked his hand over his face as he looked first at Catherine then Sara.
Gil Grissom spent several hours rewriting and reviewing several research papers. After lunch, he ran a few errands, called Nick Stokes and left a message, and, as he waited for pick-up at summer camp, his phone rang.
Sara.
She would not call at this time if it wasn't important. He answered with "Hey".
"Jim's asleep—I've stepped into the hall."
He heard her sigh before she said, "He's not doing well—I've talk to the hospitalist on the floor and she said he's end stage—not long."
Grissom groaned, saying, "I was afraid of this."
"He's made a request, Gil." A pause, then, "He wants to go home."
Rubbing his eyes, Grissom said, "He wants what?"
Sara's voice came through the phone saying, "He wants to go home—he asked Catherine and me if we would—if we could help." Another pause.
"What does his physician say?"
He heard Sara take a deep breath before saying, "The nurse and the physician said he could go—they've called hospice services but really need someone staying with him."
Grissom knew if he was in Jim's place what he'd want. He said, "Well, then—home he will go."
"Catherine and I can work out the details. I'm going over to his place later—see what needs to be done."
"We'll come tomorrow night. Kids can finish this week in camp and I'll get everything packed and be ready to leave when I pick them up tomorrow." Grissom thought he detected a suppressed choking sound. He asked, "Are you okay?"
"I am—this is so sad, Gil. He told me how much he enjoyed our kids—that we were doing a good job as parents."
A short while later, Sara and Catherine left the hospital. Sleep came quickly for Brass after an infusion of a pain reliever; Sara arranged covers and made sure the call bell was within reach before leaving.
They left in Catherine's car, a sporty expensive Audi that Sara had never seen; her life did not include knowing names of luxurious vehicles.
The afternoon landscape of Las Vegas had changed since Sara left but there were many recognizable places as well as new buildings going up. After a few turns, the wide streets tapered into neighborhoods and into the familiar street that signaled arrival at Jim's home.
The house had not changed in years with the exception of a porch across the front and a deck on the back. Catherine pulled into the driveway and stopped the car.
"How long since you've been here," asked Sara.
"A while—maybe six months. I usually meet Jim for lunch somewhere."
Sara rattled keys. "I guess we need to go inside."
Sara wiped her feet on the mat and stepped inside. There was a familiarity as soon as she stepped in; the furniture was where it should be. The floor was clean yet the place felt different. The air was stale, she realized; the house had been closed up for days. And there was no welcoming by the guy who'd lived here for more than twenty years.
The two women walked through the house to the kitchen. Catherine touched a few things as she passed and flicked on lights in the kitchen.
Sara opened the refrigerator to find it almost empty; she checked the trash can, finding it empty with a clean liner.
"Looks like Mirta has been here—or at least after he went to the hospital," Sara said.
Catherine leaned against the countertop, sighed, and looked around as she said, "What are we supposed to do?"
Closing the refrigerator door, Sara propped her shoulder against it, saying, "He doesn't want to die alone—or among strangers. Betty, Gil's mom, was the same way."
"I do remember you taking off work for several days—and Gil showed up a week later. After she died." There was a cynical touch in her voice.
Sara made a groaning sound. "Yep—that was when he did not want to see me! As long as she was conscious, I told her he was on his way but once she lost consciousness, we would hold her hand—wasn't much else to do by then."
Laughing quietly, Catherine turned around in the small kitchen as she said, "You are a better person than me, Sara! And now—two kids—a life of adventure. Gil Grissom is a lucky man!"
Walking to a cabinet, Catherine said, "How about a glass of wine?" She opened the cabinet to reveal a nice wine cooler. "Jim always has a good selection." She pulled one bottle from the rack. "Find an opener—it's almost a health food, right?"
A few minutes later, they were sitting on the deck in the day's twilight sipping a nice pinot.
"We'll divide up our time so one of us is with Jim all the time. Is that the plan?" asked Catherine.
Sara nodded. "Gil and kids are coming tomorrow night so he can help out. Hospice nurses and aides will be here to help with baths and meds."
Placing her glass on a small table, Catherine poured a tad more wine into it. "I've been lucky with my mom—still going as strong as ever. And when—when Sam was killed—that was so sudden and traumatic, I don't remember much of what happened." Taking a swallow of wine, she sighed and said, "What do we do now?"
A/N: Thank you! We appreciate hearing from readers-long live GSR!