A/N: Once again, many thanks for all of your reviews/comments and PM's. I am glad that you are "enjoying" this journey, even if its not going quite the way you were hoping. I struggled a lot with this chapter - not just in terms of content. It's a hard chapter to read. Maybe have a box of tissues handy. To make up (I hope) for the violence in this chapter, I think you will love next week's chapter, at least in part :) Many thanks to JellybeanChiChi, not only for the amazing beta, (and suggestions) but also for your patience, and words of encouragement, when the doubts really set in.
Chapter 12
The judgement made Grissom feel numb. After Judge Carrigan's verdict, Grissom had been swiftly handcuffed and led from the courtroom, Sara's, shocked pale face and haunted eyes, had been the last thing he'd seen as a free man.
His lawyer, Hobson Nash, and Jim Brass had protested loudly and vehemently on his behalf, he'd later learned. And while they had not been able to over turn the decision, they had managed to get Grissom a cell to himself. For that small victory he was grateful.
The drive to High Desert had been long, tiring and uncomfortable, as the prison transport bus had dropped off several inmates to the various Nevada State Prisons. There had been three others with Grissom.
After being booked, Grissom had been forced to remove his wedding band. It had brought an ache to his heart, as it was placed with his other meagre belongings in storage, before heading to the showers and shaving his beard.
Gil Grissom had considered himself a ghost in high school, and he hoped to revisit that moniker while in prison.
Grissom woke with a start as thunder boomed loudly, overhead. Three quick flashes of lightning illuminated his prison cell, in an eerie light.
He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position on an uncomfortable mattress, was fast becoming an impossibility. His eyes closed, as he concentrated on bringing his breathing under control and quell the panic that his dream had instilled in him.
He wished Sara was there beside him. Neither of them had ever been sound sleepers. As their relationship had progressed and they had started sleeping together, he had learned that Sara was still prone to having nightmares. On those times, he'd hold her securely in his arms and soothe her. Often times he had stayed awake to simply watch over her, if sleep had reclaimed her.
Then there were occasions when that role had been reversed, and Sara had comforted him. For two people who had spent most of their adult lives sleeping alone, they had learned they slept better when the other was beside them.
Grissom sighed, as a familiar ache settled in his chest. He'd not slept well, since his arrival at High Desert State Prison, three days prior.
Another flash of lightning lit the cell as the storm continued to vent its fury outside the prison walls. He found the inclement weather suited his mood perfectly.
Jake's bloodied face, drifted across his mind and Grissom was once again reminded of his dream and the reason for his waking. The dead man's taunting voice still echoed in his ears, and Grissom felt his anger rise, replacing the momentary feeling of panic that had first consumed him. There were very few people in life who Grissom loathed. But Jake Sullivan had been one of them.
His reappearance in Sara's life had succeeded in bringing the insecurities about their relationship he'd long buried back to the surface. Jake's presence had served as a reminder of Grissom's own inadequacies.
As thoughts of whether he was a good enough man, husband and lover swirled in his mind, he savagely pushed to his feet hoping to banish those thoughts from his mind. He paced his cell as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
He couldn't deny that he'd been jealous of Jake from the moment they first met at the lab. Despite Sara's reassurances, Grissom's jealousy had morphed into genuine hate. When Jake had followed Sara to the diner, he witnessed how Sara not only displayed her fury as an independent woman, but also as a protective mother. Frightening Daniel ignited a distinctive wrath from Sara.
And it also ignited a distinct realization for Grissom; It was then he discovered that he was capable of killing a man.
Grissom returned to his bunk and procured a photo of Sara and Daniel, one of a few personal effects he'd been allowed to keep.
Taking it down, he sat on his bunk, with a heavy sigh, resting his head on one hand.
In the photo, Sara was turned facing him, a megawatt smile on her face as she held Daniel, who had been around five-months old at the time.
He stared at the photo of Sara and Daniel forlornly. The weight of the situation he was in pressed heavily down on him. Was this all he had to look forward to? A photo of the two people he held most dear to his heart? Watching his son grow only through weekly visits? He wanted so much more for his son. He blinked quickly, as a sudden feeling of hopelessness enveloped him. He missed them both so much.
Another rush of anger surged within him. In death Jake had succeeded in taking Sara from him, and he would never forgive him for that.
After breakfast call, Grissom made his way to the recreational room. The room wasn't all that crowded for the time of day, and Grissom was grateful.
A few inmates gave him a cursory glance then went back to their card game, dismissing his presence almost immediately. He breathed out a cautionary breath of air, as he ventured further into the room. So far, he'd managed to keep as low a presence as possible and none of the other prisoners had seemed to recognise him.
The TV was on, tuned to a news update and Grissom only gave it a fleeting glance, as he made his way over to the lone bookcase, and its paltry offering of well thumbed, dog-eared, torn and tatty excuses for books, and a few battered board games and jigsaws.
Grissom felt the temperature rapidly drop, as the TV volume was raised slightly as Paula Francis' voice filled the room as she reported on the investigation of Jake's murder.
Grissom's heart picked up a notch, as he became aware of the shift around him. He stood stock still, his back to the room, as the news report continued. He could feel the eyes of the other inmates fixed solidly in his direction. He felt a tendril of fear curl around his heart, his blood seemingly turned to ice, and he willed himself to remain calm.
"If I stay calm," he thought to himself, "they won't make the connection. I can get through this."
He stayed where he was for five minutes after the news report had moved on to something else, before making his way back to his cell, unaware that four of the prisoners watched his retreat.
Late that afternoon, Grissom kept to himself as best he could in the prison exercise yard, and turned his face up to the hot desert sun, his eyes squinting against the glare, wishing that he'd been allowed his shades, although he was starting to feel thankful that the beard was gone.
He's thoughts drifted once more to Sara and their son, the fingers of his right hand absently seeking the ring that was no longer on his left hand. In ten days time it would be there first wedding anniversary, and frustration rose anew at the fact that they wouldn't be together to celebrate it. Once again, Grissom laid the blame squarely at Jake's feet.
Despite being outdoors, he felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He needed out of this place.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't see four fellow prisoners approach him, until he was shoved roughly against the rough brickwork of the building, an arm pinned painfully behind his back, as he's head was pushed forcefully against the brick.
"Not so smug now, are you Grissom?" hissed a voice, close to his ear. "You're in our neighbourhood now, Killer. And we've got out own way for dealing with cops."
"I wasn't a cop," hissed Grissom, as he struggled to free himself from the strong grip that held him against the wall. "I investigated crime scenes."
The arms shoved him harder still against the rough brickwork, grazing Grissom's cheek in the process. The pressure of the arm on his neck increased, his arm pulled behind his back, making him grimace painfully.
"You worked with cops, and that makes you as bad as them, if not worse," reasoned the voice, followed but two swift punches to Grissom's kidney's.
Grissom stifled the hiss of pain as best he could, but was unable to mask the grimace of pain that contorted his face. He tried once more to shove back against the strong hands that held him, without success.
"You're on your own in here, Killer, remember that," stated the voice as the others warned him of the approaching guards. "We'll be seeing you around, Gilbert."
As he finished speaking, he delivered two more swift blows to Grissom's kidneys, before the punishing grip loosened and with a groan of pain, Grissom sank to his knees.
Shortly after lunch on Friday afternoon, Grissom was heading back towards his cell from the shower block, as a group of five prisoners headed towards him from the other direction.
He tried to keep an eye on all the men, but didn't react quickly enough when one prisoner broke away from the gang, and painfully slammed Grissom into the wall. The blow was enough to make his teeth rattle and bite his tongue and see stars as his head rapped against the wall.
"Fucking bastard!" hissed a voice filled with fury, as a fist connected with his mouth.
Grissom blinked, slightly dazed as he tried to focus on the voice, but doubled over with a rush of air, as he was punched hard in the stomach. He would have sank to his knees if a pair of strong arms hadn't held him up, under the armpits.
His attacker struggled against the hands that also held him back, as the apparent leader of the gang approached the two men.
"What's the beef, bro?"
The younger man struggled harder, itching to have another go at Grissom. He growled with frustrated anger, when the hands held on tight.
"He's the one responsible for my father's death!" he growled, furiously. With a surge of energy, he pulled away from the restraining hands. The force of his fist connecting with Grissom's face, snapped his head to the right, and blood splattered on the floor.
The words partly cleared the fog clouding Grissom's mind. Blood dripped down his chin from his mouth as he turned to his his accuser. He instantly recognised him.
He'd only met Tait Darrow, once, the previous year as he stood trial for his part in Rory Dunbar's vendetta against him. He and his brother Corey, had helped Mike Garrett escape from prison. It had been their actions that had led to Garrett holding a then pregnant Sara hostage in an effort to lure Grissom out into the open. And it had worked.
"Tait, I'm not responsible for what..."
"Like fuck you're not!" Tait furiously cut Grissom off, following another hard blow to Grissom's mid section. "You're as guilty as if you'd put the noose around his neck yourself!"
Grissom couldn't muffle the groan of pain or hide the grimace that marred his face as he was punched once more. His knees would have given out, if it wasn't for the arms that still held him upright.
Tait's eyes blazed with fury, fully prepared to punch Grissom again, when another idea came to him. He grabbed Grissom painfully by the hair, and bodily dragged him over to a cubicle.
Grissom struggled as he was forced to his knees, before he's head was unceremoniously shoved down into the toilet and then flushed.
It felt hours before Grissom was bodily pulled back, and he gasped as he struggled to get as much air back into his lungs as he could.
"My mother struggled to raise three kids on her own, because no one was prepared to help after your persecution of my father. Maybe that bastard son, and that bitch of a wife of yours should get a taste of what that's like, huh?"
Tait moved to shove Grissom's head back in the toilet, and he resisted as much as he could in the cramped space.
His struggles increased as the toilet was flushed once more and he was held under the churning water. His lungs started to burn as he struggled to hold his breath and free himself from his captors restraining hands.
He took a gasping breath, when he was pulled back up, the water stinging his eyes as it ran in rivulets down his face, soaking the orange of his prison scrubs. He's chest rose and fell rapidly as he fought for air, his eyes wide with fright.
"Whatever Rory told you..."
Tait grabbed Grissom's hair and yanked his head forward with a savage shake, making Grissom winch.
"Leave my uncle out of this, asshole! You tore my family apart!"
For a third a time, Grissom's head was yanked savagely forward and under water and the toilet flushed. Grissom's struggles grew frantic as it seemed that he wouldn't be pulled back up this time, and panic set in.
At the final second he was yanked back up and released, and he scurried backward, gasping like a stranded fish, as he sucked in whooping gulps of air.
Grissom flinched and tried to scurry further back, as Tait approached him once more.
This time, Tait drew back his foot, a split second, before he kicked Grissom hard, in the crotch.
Grissom's eyes grew wide and then slammed shut as the pain hit, his hands holding his throbbing groin protectively, as he curled into a fetal position. His face drained to a bloodless white, as dizziness made the room spin. Hot tears squeezed from the corners is his tightly scrunched eyes, as the pain moved up into his stomach.
His heart pounded in his chest, working into over drive. His head thumped in rhythm with his throbbing and battered balls.
The room began to spin as the nausea increased, and Grissom barely had time to turn his head as he vomited.