A/N: Another great chapter from co-author, JellybeanChiChi. I think, these last couple of chapters are among my favourite chapters. There are a few chapters still come, but not too sure when. In the meantime, enjoy :)
CHAPTER 68
Coming into the bathroom, Sara saw Daniel playing with a couple of bath toys in a soapy tub. With the toilet lid down, Grissom sat upon it with his back to the door while he watched his son. He was slightly slumped over with his forearms on his thighs. Sara knew that was a telltale sign of his exhaustion — mentally and physically.
She was going to put her hands on his shoulders and knead them, but remembered the bruising on the one side. She wondered how many bruises he had total.
Brushing that thought aside for a moment, she used her hands to softly rub circles on his back. "You doing OK?"
He spun his torso on the seat to avoid turning his neck. "Yeah. Fine."
She put a towel on the edge of the tub on the opposite end from Daniel so she could sit in front of Grissom. "I brought you this for your eye," she said, handing him the ice bag he normally would use when a migraine would hit.
"Thank you," he said, as he gingerly applied the cold compress. He opened his eye to see her staring at his injuries. "If you allow me to borrow your own words, staring at it won't make it go away."
Sara smiled and nodded her head. His reference was that of a cut on her neck brought there by a shard of ceramic to her neck. While the memory of Adam Trent was one borne out of a fearful moment, the aftermath led to the couple connecting. "I remember that. I suppose I understand why you were staring."
"And I understand why you found it annoying," he replied, earning a friendly swat on the knee. "You get all your groceries away?"
"Yes. Brass helped," Sara replied. "I'm glad I didn't totally forget about them."
"You two talk about me?"
"We both mentioned we're worried about you. Mad about what happened." Grissom searched her face and she could tell he trusted her answer and appreciated the honesty. "He did tell me to ask you about the paramedics. I didn't know what that was all about. I'd rather know who the officer was so I can smack him across the face."
"That would be a bad idea," Grissom said, taking the compress off his eye for a moment. "So, the paramedics… one of them specifically wanted me to tell you that he hopes you're doing well."
Sara's expression scrunched in confusion until a serious thought gleamed. "You're kidding, right?"
Grissom shook his head no and put the compress back on his eye.
"Hank Peddigrew?" That gained a nod from Grissom and an incredulous look from Sara. "Of all the people. An ex got us into this situation… and then an ex is there when you're in another."
"Don't do that, Sara," Grissom said seriously. "Yes, there is a karmic level of irony there, but it was my past, not yours, that got us into this situation. And for that… I can't say sorry enough."
"How about we just blame this on people, instead of the past?"
"Yeah," he said softly.
"OK?" she added.
He looked into her eyes, that wordlessly — lovingly — demanded an answer. He nodded solemnly before speaking. "If there is any consolation, Hank was actually kind and helpful. Both the medics were. They got distance between me and that fucking asshole cop. And while Hank looked after me, his partner took care of Daniel and Hank — our dog, not …. You know."
Hearing her husband, a veteran of law enforcement, describe an officer as a "fucking asshole cop" mentally gave Sara shivers. That was the last thing she would expect to hear from him. But after the last few months… hell, the last year and a half, she was beginning to understand damage had been done to not only his reputation but the trust held dear in his avocation.
With an even higher level of empathy, she placed a supportive hand on his thigh. "I'm glad they were there for you, and I'm sorry about the officer. Like I told Brass, you didn't deserve that."
The smell of lavender baby wash enveloped the room, as for a moment the only sound was the occasional splash of bath water as Sara dipped a hand in the water and teased her son, who loved every moment of that.
"If you want to lie down, I can take over. Even though it's not even 3, it's been a long day. And I did wake you at the crack of dawn," she said comically with air quotes.
"Would you ever consider leaving Vegas?"
Throughout her relationship with Gil Grissom, she had learned it was the out-of-the-blue comments that needed the most attention and shouldn't be brushed away. A lot of times it was those comments that got to the heart of a serious matter he wanted to share. She just had to coax him gently and honestly.
"I guess I haven't ever thought about it because… well, we've been busy caring for Daniel… working."
"Prison, hospital, rehab…" Grissom continued. "Hasn't been a lot of time for you to breathe, much less think."
She appreciated him thinking about her situation, but she needed to steer it back to him. Her hand returned to his thigh. "This became my home because… well, because of you, not Vegas. Vegas was your home before mine, Gil. After all that's happened to you, are you still able to breathe here?"
He put his hand upon hers. "You're my home, too. And I thought it would be good to keep building here because our love was the foundation." He spoke slowly, and would look at Sara, who nodded hoping that would help him continue. And it did.
"But when I think of Vegas, I think of violence. Which is so…" he started to sadly chuckle at his thought, "so ludicrous because as CSIs we saw violence every day."
"Until it personally hit us," Sara added.
"Yes. Against you. Against me. Against our children." His head hung low as he rubbed his hand against his temple.
"Hon, what else? You can talk to me."
He looked up and the vulnerability on his face was unmistakable. He pursed his lips then bit his bottom lip, forgetting his own injury. He quickly placed his hand up, which muted his curse.
A part of Sara cursed the fact he stopped talking, but another part of her, the part that listened to Brass when he said, "Be patient," brushed the negative aside. "You OK? Maybe put the ice pack on it?"
"Stupid habit."
"I find it endearing."
He shyly smiled. "Daniel's probably pruny."
"Yeah," Sara said, standing to grab a towel. "The bath was a good idea. We probably could put him in the crib with his music and he might just fall asleep."
"You think?"
"Yeah, he has that look. It might be one of his power naps, but that way it won't ruin his night schedule."
"Mommy knows best," Grissom said.
"So does daddy," Sara said as she held the toweled-up boy in her arms. "Come on."
True to his mother's word, Daniel gladly laid down on his crib with his trusty stuffed ant. Daddy have him a kiss before laying him down, and then she bent over to give him a kiss of her own.
The couple exited the room but left the door open.
"Did you want to lie down on the bed?" Sara asked.
"I think I'd rather get a drink. Did you eat lunch?"
"Yes. But I bet you didn't. Can I make you something?" He shrugged his response and she knew why. He probably was tired and sore to eat but still wound up. But she hoped he would follow her downstairs to eat… and talk more. "You know, I make a mean smoothie, which could include ice cream."
"You mean a milkshake?"
She walked downstairs without another word and he followed.
He had to admit. The ice cream smoothie tasted good and made him feel a little better. He sat on the couch and leaned back. He opened his good eye to see Sara approaching to sit next to him with her own smoothie. She sat on the side opposite his bruised shoulder. They sat in silence, sipping smoothies.
"Thank you, Sara."
She put her head on his shoulder. They sat quietly for a moment until Sara spoke. "Did you get a chance to talk to Dana?"
"Yes, I called the office."
"What did she say?"
"I talked to one of her assistants. She wanted to come by tomorrow. About 1 p.m. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you."
"That's OK. I'm not scheduled for tomorrow."
Again they were quiet sipping their respective smoothies, until Grissom placed his on the end table. "I got another call this morning."
"From who?" Sara said, her straw making a slurping noise to let her know the smoothie was no more.
"Philip Gerard."
"Talk about blast from the past."
"Yeah."
"I think Bowden called him during the investigation," Sara said, getting a nod from Grissom. "Was he checking on you?"
"Yes, I guess, and he wanted to offer me a financial opportunity. Doing consultation for him."
"Huh," Sara muttered. The two of them hadn't broached a lot about Grissom's future job opportunities. "What did you think about it?"
"I didn't. I … I told him I wasn't in a place to do consultations, or have an interest," Grissom said. "You think that was a mistake?"
"No, Gil," Sara answered resolutely. "You need to do what's right for you."
"Yes, but that could have been money coming in."
Sara popped her head off his shoulder. "Is that you saying that, or you thinking that's what I would say about it?"
He spoke no words, but Grissom's look reflected embarrassment and contrition.
She squeezed his thigh, and laid her head back on his shoulder. "Leaving Vegas would be a big step for us."
"You know… maybe I shouldn't have said anything. It was… selfish for me to say that."
Sara sat back up. "Selfish? Why would you think that?"
"Honey, you're an amazing CSI. And even though we are starting a family, you still have this brilliant career ahead of you — something you've worked so hard to accomplish," Grissom said.
She was truly touched by his words. "Thank you, Gil. Hearing that from you means a lot."
"Given the opportunity, you would make a fantastic supervisor."
"Well, that I'm not so sure about. You know I have a reputation as a hothead."
"You were taken hostage by a madman and survived. Had a healthy baby boy, and still came back to work. Your husband disgraced his name, and caused a poisonous rumor mill, and you still forged ahead. And people notice that about you, Sara. The people that matter. Conrad. Your supervisor. Greg. Your coworker Kahil."
Again, she was touched by his words.
"When I retired, I knew you could continue to flourish and your accomplishments and no one could question favoritism or anything else people might believe was attributed to having a relationship with me," Grissom continued. "Unfortunately, the spectre of Gil Grissom — sleazy boss who knocked you up and was suspected of murder — still haunts you, and I hope that goes away. I can't apologize enough for that."
This time, Sara wanted to chastise him for his words. But he was talking, and he didn't need words to say he is wrong. Just words to help him speak more.
"So you think asking about leaving Las Vegas is selfish because it might change my career path?" He nodded and she looked at him critically. They have been through this territory before. He even did with Catherine. But there seemed to be something else. Something more. "But don't you think I could be a CSI at another lab?"
"Of course I do."
"Good," Sara said as she opened up her hand between them, which he clasped. "Then why else would you think it was selfish to say that?"
Grissom tried to dismiss the comment, but nothing left his mouth. It confirmed to Sara there was something else.
"Babe, you were going to say something while we were in the bathroom, but you stopped. What is it? This place has been violent against us, but there's something else, isn't there?"
He looked away from her for a few moments, his lips pursed. But Sara kept silent and waited. If he spoke, he spoke. She just hoped he would.
After a few minutes he did speak.
"When the cop was interviewing me, even after suffering an attack, he viewed me as nothing more than a prisoner. It was the same looks the prison guards gave me. The same looks the infirmary personnel gave me. The same look the cop at the door of the hospital gave me. The same look those detectives that investigated the crash gave me. The same look Catherine gave me when I first knocked on her door." He had to stop and shake his head a bit to get that image out of his head. It always made him well up in angry tears. "I feel like I'll always be prisoner Grissom here. No matter what I've done before, no matter what we do now or in the future, I'll be prisoner Grissom."
He pulled up their clasped hands to brush a kiss along Sara's knuckles. Then he stood up. After watching him slowly pace, Sara pushed herself off the couch. And went behind him, her hands on his forearms arms.
"I don't see you like that, Gil," Sara said, tears leaking out of her own eyes for her husband. "I never did. You know that, right?"
Grissom turned around, a tear at the corner of each eye. "Oh, Sara. You and Daniel are the only people who don't see me like that. So I guess, selfishly, I've been thinking of starting over some place else."
"That's not selfish."
"In a way it is, hon. Shouldn't how you two view me be enough to continue roots here? Like you said, Vegas was home to me before it was for you. I shouldn't uproot you again and especially now because I can't handle something. Because I made mistakes. Because I'm a pri..."
She quieted him with a kiss on his bruised lips. It was not insistent, yet not chaste. It was meant to join them, in love. She pulled back. "You might think it's selfish to ask about leaving. I think it's selfish to have you live in a place that feels haunted. I know that feeling, Gil. I grew up with that feeling. It's not just a 'something.' We both need to heal from this."
They pulled one another in a hug. With an eye practically swollen shut, Grissom only worked to close one eye and bury his face in her hair.