Catherine joined Brass at the hospital after her visit to Heather. She found him gripping a coffee cup, watching Sara and deep in thought. She left him in thought for a few moments before she spoke up with a quiet hello. He startled, nearly spilling the coffee.
"Geez Catherine, don't scare an old man." He grumbled at her.
"I didn't. No old men in here." She teased him. "Just an overcaffeinated cop."
"Yeah, well, haven't slept much. But this stuff is so bad I'm not sure it even qualifies as coffee." He gestured with the cup.
"Why don't you throw it out? Go home and get some sleep. You look like crap."
"Didn't want to leave her alone. Hoping maybe she'd wake up soon." He admitted wistfully.
"If you don't go home and get some rest, she'll wake up and find you looking worse than she does." Catherine scolded. "Have you even been home since she came in? Slept? Eaten real food?"
"I napped. I've eaten." Brass grumbled.
"You are going to go home, shower, eat a real meal with vegetables, and clean yourself up before you come back here again tonight." Catherine insisted. "Things here are under control. You won't help her by staring at her. Get some rest, so when she wakes up, you're here for her then."
"Fine. I'll go home to shower. Check on things. I might even get some real food. And I'll sleep, but it's going to be right here. Is that good enough?" Brass grumbled as he got up.
"I'll take what I can get. At least you won't stink." Catherine agreed as she pulled out her laptop. "And for now, I'll keep her company while I actually get some work done."
For several hours, she worked on her laptop, alternating between working her actual work assignments and trying to organise a way to get Grissom home. A friend at the FBI had managed to determine the cell tower that was closest to him, even confirming that the sent texts and emails had all been read. It appeared he was at a tiny, remote cluster of islands well off the coast of Mexico. Speaking to someone else with connections in the Navy, she considered options to get him to the nearest airport. While Hawaii was further away, there was more ship traffic headed that direction and might get him home sooner. She again contacted the group with which he was working and was pleasantly surprised that the coordinator was willing to bend over backwards to appease the woman working for the FBI. Whether he liked it or not, Catherine was determined to get him home, even if it was by force.
As she settled into her case work, Catherine found herself quietly narrating things to Sara and asking for her opinion on several bits of evidence, despite knowing better than to expect a response. She struggled to stay focused on her work but knew it was necessary if she wanted to be granted the time off. Talking it through with Sara was helping, despite how ridiculous she felt.
Two hours later, Brass returned with lunch. He let Catherine take her choice of the sandwiches, before eating one himself. Shortly afterwards he lay down on the cot and was asleep in minutes.
Gil. It's Heather. I need you to call me immediately. Please.
He listened to her message again. Something was seriously wrong in Vegas if he had Sara's friends, her boss, Ecklie and now Heather all reaching out to him. He wondered why Sara hadn't called him herself... but then again, he knew he hadn't answered any of her calls for over a month, since the lawyer had sent her the papers.
A migraine was building. He could feel it in the way his vision was swimming, the pain in his skull intensifying. Grabbing the medication from beside the bed, he swallowed two pills and took a deep breath. Avoiding the situation wasn't going to make it go away. He scrolled through the emails and texts that had been arriving, all of them boiling down to the same message. Call home.
After much deliberation, he called the person who would be least likely to worsen his migraine.
"Heather?" he asked when she answered the phone.
"Gil. You don't sound well. Migraine?"
"Yes. And I suspect it's about to get worse. What's wrong?" he heard her say something quietly to Allison, and couldn't help the brief smile that flickered across his face. A reminder that sometimes, he did get things right.
"Where are you right now?" She asked, deflecting the question.
"A small island between Mexico and Hawaii." He answered. "Waiting out a storm, the target has stopped nearby as well."
"I see. And how quickly would you be able to get back?" She asked gently.
"I honestly don't know. It would probably take a few days to get somewhere with an airport. Heather, what's wrong. I've gotten messages from a dozen people asking me to call."
"It's Sara." She spoke softly but clearly. "She needs you to come home."
"I can't, Heather, you know that. Sara will be ok without me. She's strong. She just needs time." He insisted.
"No Gil, she's not. And you know my thoughts on that situation. But that isn't relevant right now. Gil, she's sick." Heather told him gently. "I have a number here for you to call, to talk to her doctor. You are still her emergency contact, next of kin and medical proxy." She waited for him to say something. "She's still alive, it sounds like she's going to make it." Heather reassured him. "Catherine said she is unconscious but seems to be improving. But the doctors can't tell them much without your permission."
"Sara?" It was the only word he could whisper, feeling like the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
"Gil, you need to call her doctor. He can tell you what you need to know." Heather's voice was calm but firm.
"Right. You have his number?"
"I'm sending it to you now. Dr. Mark Walsh. She's in good hands."
"OK. Heather? Thank you."
"I think you know what you need to do. You still love her. She clearly still loves you if she hasn't appointed someone else. Sometimes, Gil, you need to admit that you were wrong." Heather only paused a moment before hanging up. His phone pinged again, and the contact for Sara's doctor came up on his screen.
Tomorrow will be my last chapter for a few days as I'll be travelling out of the country. But don't worry, the story won't be abandoned. 30 chapters written and still not done!