I:
Similar
The setting sun cast long, heavy shadows through the mountains, while setting the sky a blaze with pinks and blues and splashes of orange and red. The Nevada sky could be a breathtaking picture to behold at dusk but the man squatted on his heels along side the road wasn’t interested in colorful vistas.
With the singular focus that could both awe and infuriate his friends and co-workers, Grissom took in the ground before him. The tire tracks were faint, hidden among desert plant life tough enough to live along a secondary highway winding its way through the mountains. He’d need to take cast and hope it cured quickly.
Where the sky to the west was a beautiful tribute to the day’s dying light, the sky to the south was another matter. Red and purple clouds gave way to dark gray and for once Grissom thought the weathercasters might have actually hit the night’s forecast on the head. Rain.
A Nevada State Trooper leaned against his patrol car, his boredom transmitting in every sigh and look he cast at Grissom. A girl had been found alongside the road a mile away, the apparent victim of a hit and run. But Grissom had found the girl’s appearance, she was dressed for a night out and her location odd. Why had a girl who looked like she was ready for date ended up on a near deserted stretch of mountain highway and without a car?
Well, that had been the question that Grissom had posed to the local Sheriff, who seemed a little indifferent to the whole matter in Grissom’s opinion. If her car wasn’t on the road then she had been brought out to the secluded area, either willingly or by force. Regardless, she had ended up dead.
Grissom quickly placed a metal ring around the tire track. With a precision that came from much practice he mixed and poured the casting material into the ring, checking his watch after doing so. The loud sigh behind him had Grissom turning his head to catch the Trooper rolling his head skyward. Shifting his sunglasses to the top of his head, Grissom checked his watch again.
“This cast will take a few minutes,” he told the impatient man. “Then I am done for the night.”
“Yeah”
Grissom nodded.
“Do you care if I high tail it out of here?” The trooper asked, stepping away from the fender of his car. “I actually have a date tonight,” the trooper paused, debating if he should say more to sell his cause, “trying to get back with the wife.”
For the briefest of moments Grissom wondered what had made the wife leave but then decided he didn’t want to know. “Sure,” he told the hopeful man. “I should be done in about ten minutes anyway.
The trooper gave Grissom a toothy smile and with a quick hop in his step, he made it around his cruiser. “Thanks,” he told Grissom, piling into the driver’s seat and making a hasty retreat.
Grissom didn’t even bother to watch the man leave. Glancing back to his cast impression, Grissom actually felt relieved that the trooper had gone. Since Sara had left he worked and if he could help it, he worked alone. If he wasn’t at work than he was at home, just him and the dog… alone. It had become a comfortable, numbing blanket that he had wrapped himself tightly in and no matter how much his friends tried to drag it from him, Grissom held it tighter and tighter.
When Sara had first left he had been dumbstruck but a part of him understood and he had held enough hope in his heart that he was able to function within a close facsimile of himself. Sure he did a crazy amount of overtime but it wasn’t like he had ever been the kind of guy that always clocked out ten minutes early. But when weeks had turned into months and he still came home to the ghost of her, Grissom found a dark edge slowly slipping into his psyche, taking up residence and spreading insidiously slow throughout his being. Before, when his friends had questioned Grissom, he had felt uncomfortable but had appreciated their concern but three months later found the man giving them an angry glare before stalking off.
He was alone. That’s just how it is, he thought, hating the vitriol that oozed to the surface with that thought but embracing it at the same time. Grissom sighed deeply, trying to derail his dark thoughts and focus on the job at hand.
The headlights of the trooper’s vehicle as he made a u-turn in the road caught something metallic a farther off the road side, hidden in a sickly looking bush. Rising to his feet, Grissom made his way cautiously to the bush, squatting down, he reached in with his latex gloved hands. Pulling out a platinum metal band wristwatch, Grissom took note of the iridescent blue face and gold crown. Rolex?
Grissom reached into his vest to grab his flashlight. He could see there was an engraving on the watch but in the fading light he could not make out what it read. Clicking the light on, he read the name out loud to himself, a small smirk playing on his lips. The name on the expensive watch was already his prime suspect. Grissom simply hadn’t been able to put his suspect at the crime scene. Until now, Grissom thought smugly.
With his attention fully focused on the damning evidence, Grissom did not hear the footsteps that approached him. He did not sense the danger as it crept up behind him. Grissom did feel the momentarily numbing jolt as it slammed into his back, throwing him forward on to the dusty earth. His mind temporarily unable to comprehend what had happened to him, Grissom attempted to raise himself from the ground, the numb feeling giving way to a hot, piercing pain.
Grissom’s left arm gave way and he fell forward with a groan before slowly rolling over to see his attacker. Behind him, a man in a back ski mask stalked him slowly, preparing to shoot Grissom once again. Oddly, a calm feeling descended upon Grissom as he stared down the barrel of the gun, his thoughts traveling to Sara and the little things that had made her special. Her smell, the subtle hint of vanilla and something distinctly Sara. Time slowed as he recalled the feel of her skin under his fingertips, on his lips as he had drowned in her essence, marveling at the warmth that seeped into his soul knowing that she loved him.
“Sara,” he expelled on a ragged breath.
His shooter reached down to grab the watch from Grissom’s left hand, the CSI’s right hand striking out to grab the wrist of his shooter. A white flash, the acrid smell of gunpowder accompanying a deafening explosion and then Grissom was left in blackness. His body jerked mildly at the force of the second bullet, his head rolling to one side as his eyes closed. Grissom’s shooter took a half a step closer, preparing to shoot yet again when a prolonged horn blast and his partner screamed at him from the road. “Come on! He’s dead!”
With a skip-hop the man abandoned his crime, leaving the still form of Gil Grissom to the gathering darkness. It might be minutes or it might be hours before anyone came by and even then the man lying in the recessed portion of the mountain road still might not be noticed until daylight
The cool, wet air that had crept in was a prelude to the rainstorm. Drizzle gave way to showers and thunder heralded the approach of the storm proudly. Soon lightening would slash through the blackened sky, petulantly claiming the heavens as its own. There would be no brave travelers daring the storm on the mountain road anytime soon. This one corner of the world had been left to the elements.
II:
The bright light of lightening flashing over head and the earth jarring rumble of thunder had Grissom weakly raising his right hand against the sensory onslaught. The rain smacking him in the face made Grissom sputter as he moved his head in an attempt to avoid the heavy drops. The sharp pain shooting through his skull had the man groaning immediately, the pain so violent and strong Grissom wasn’t sure if he would give in to the blackness threatening his consciousness or wretch all over himself. The first one sounded less painful and he nearly did give in.
“Damn,” he groaned softly, his hand coming up to the right side of his head and gently examining it.
There was something wrong and the pain at his temple was so sharp it felt like his brain and been pierced with molten glass, while his skull had been pummeled with a lead pipe. Rolling to his right, Grissom tried to force himself up on to all fours and immediately became aware of the trembling weakness in his left side and the hot, ripping sensation there. With more effort then he thought possible, Grissom made it up on to his knees, a long, heavy sigh escaping his lips as the air rushed from his lungs. It seemed that no matter how he moved or even if he moved, there was excruciating pain.
A barrage of lightening over head split the night sky, flooding the mountain road with blue-white light. Grissom squinted against the light but forced his eyes to remain open, using the elemental light to cure his darkness induced blindness and what he saw gave his heart a start.
His hands were covered in blood that was slowly being washed away by the rains. Grissom had somehow suspected the wound to his head was bleeding, the viscous blood having a thick, tacky feel that felt different from his rain soaked hair. Pulling his left elbow in tightly to side, Grissom gritted his teeth against the pain stabbing through his head and body and made a shaky rise to his feet, stumbling forward, righting himself then taking a steadying step backwards.
Another flash of lightening dancing over head shone the way to his Denali parked a few yards away. He felt weak, his legs trembling with each step as he worked his way in the darkness towards his truck. With his right hand swinging before him, Grissom found the vehicle and like a blind man he felt his way around to the driver’s side, his hand skirting up and down frantically to find the door handle.
With a muted squeak of triumph, Grissom found the handle and pulled, the dome light instantly chasing the darkness back. Gingerly he slipped into the driver’s seat his head swimming, causing a fresh new wave of nausea to rise up. Grissom clenched his jaw tightly, the muscles flexing madly against the agony that consumed him as he pulled his left leg into the SUV. Willing the pain to subside, Grissom took a few steadying breaths before he tried to relax into the seat.
* * * * * * *
Trace was the first stop on Catherine’s route, followed by the break room. There was a stiff cup of coffee that had her name on it and Catherine had every intention of claiming it. The night had been insanely busy with the oddest crimes. A human hand had been discovered near Industrial at the start of shift, the rest of the body found an hour later after dispatch had gotten a call from a train engineer. A drunk had apparently thought he was faster than a speeding train and had been proven wrong. This was quickly followed by a pair of tweakers trying to rob a Big Burgers by climbing through the drive through window, but decided in the commission of their felony to have a snack break.
The latest case for Catherine involved an arson attack on a local used car dealership. The evidence that Catherine had uncovered thus far pointed to something personal. Catherine had come across the remains of some charred rags and was reasonably certain they had been used as an accelerant. Hodges would be able to tell her what chemical had been used, which may narrow her line of suspects down.
Dropping the evidence off with Hodges, Catherine made a straight line for the break room, finding Nick and Greg talking animatedly about the latest Hollywood “Blow’em Up” movie.
“Hey, boys how’d that home invasion turn out for you?” She asked, nearly salivating at the coffee she was pouring into her cup.
“Case of Ex against Ex,” Nick answered.
“Yeah, ex-wife’s boyfriend broke in to the house,” Greg explained. “She wanted to make it seem like the ex-husband’s place was unsafe so she could get primary custody of their kids.”
Catherine shook her head. “I think stupidity might be contagious tonight.”
Both men smiled in agreement. They did seem to be getting the dumb and dumber crowd this night. “Hey, has Grissom got back from his hit and run?” Nick asked.
Catherine glanced at the clock above the door. It was 2:15am, they were nearly four hours into their shift and she couldn’t recall seeing Grissom. As per his usual insanity of late, Grissom had arrived early for work, four hours early, and had taken on a hit and run vehicular homicide near the town of Jewell.
Catherine wasn’t surprised by the man being into work early, hell, she’d be surprised if he came to work on time or left work at the end of shift but work had become Grissom’s way of forgetting and no matter how much Catherine nagged him, he continued to work double after double after double. The last six weeks Catherine and Brass had done a tag team routine, each taking a turn at getting their heads chewed off as they continued to try and help their friend through a difficult time.
“Actually, I haven’t seen or heard from him since he called me at start of shift.” Catherine said in a distracted way, taking her coffee with her as she decided to check in Grissom’s office.
Catherine could see that Grissom wasn’t in his office before she got to his door. His office door was open and there was a terrarium light glowing from within but there was no Grissom.
”Okay?” she wondered aloud, pulling her cell phone from her pocket.
‘This is Grissom, leave a message.’
Catherine snapped the phone shut with one hand, her other settling on her hip. Surely he couldn’t still be up in the mountains? “Hell, the storm would’ve washed any evidence away by now.”
Catherine decided not to worry just yet. She would check with Judy at the receptionist area and try Grissom again later. If she didn’t get a hold of him then…
“Then I’ll worry,” Catherine said to herself, trying to convince herself she wasn’t already worried about her friend.
* * * * * * * * *
Grissom woke with a start, the loss of time unsettling as he pressed the button that would illuminate his watch face. 2:15? He’d been out of it for forty minutes if his memory was correct. Forty minutes and no one had noticed him sitting in the Denali. For that matter, no one had noticed him lying along the road for the previous five hours. He’d need to be a little more proactive if he wanted to get out of his present predicament.
Grissom leaned towards the window, his right hand fishing in his pants pocket. Pulling out his keys, Grissom inserted them into the ignition before returning to the pocket for his cell phone. A long groan ending on a shaky sigh slipped past his lips as he focused on the phone.
NO SERVICE
“Damn it!” Grissom cursed, his head hitting the back of his seat heavily.
His options had dwindled down to two. Stay where he was and hope some one drove by and noticed him and decided to stop and help or drive down the road in hopes of finding a spot where his cell phone could pick up a tower signal. Grissom knew if he stayed there was a definite possibility he could bleed to death and he knew he was bleeding. The memory of his shooter had come back to him during his unconscious state.
Gritting his teeth, nearly growling out his pain, Grissom leaned forward and started the ignition. He would drive down the mountain, towards town. The moment he was able to catch a signal, Grissom would pull over and call for help. He drove slow, riding the break to keep his speed below forty as the natural slant of the road allowed him to roll downward.
The throbbing in his head felt like his skull was going to shatter at any minute and the pain in his side made sitting up straight difficult. His body leaning to left had a natural effect on his driving, making Grissom continually have to correct when he drifted over the center line. He could feel the blackness pulling at him, even as he tried to stave it off.
Grissom checked his phone again.
NO SERVICE
He pressed on, even as his eyes slowly lost focus, crossing before drooping shut.
Without Grissom maintaining the speed, the truck quickly began to build up speed. Lazily it swerved back and forth over the yellow center lane, gravity partially helping pull the truck a long the road’s trajectory. But when the road began to make a right handed arc to avoid a steep decline, the Denali kept its course.
Slumped against the door, Grissom was never aware of when the Denali crossed the other lane or when it hit the end of a guard rail. Like a ramp the SUV was launched into the air, the vehicle tipping towards the driver’s side as it landed on the rocky incline, rolling several times before coming to rest right side up in a shallow gully.
With the rolling of the truck, the battery cables had come on done, leaving the Denali and its driver in pitch black. The road was easily twenty-five feet above where Grissom had come to rest and fifty feet away. A driver passing by would have a difficult time spotting the gray SUV if they were not looking for it. At night it would be near impossible.
III:
Years of working at night and being on call virtually all the time had trained Sara to answer her phone from a dead sleep. That coupled with the fact that the ringtone was the one she had assigned to Grissom’s cell phone had Sara quickly reaching out for the phone sitting on her nightstand.
“Gil,” Sara looked at the bedside clock. “It’s 3:30 in the morning.”
There was no response and just for a moment Sara thought the signal had gone dead. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she checked to see if they were still connected.
“Gil?”
There was silence. Well, not complete silence. Sara could hear breathing, labored breathing.
“Gil?” She sat up in bed, every instinct in her body telling her something was wrong. “Gil, honey, are you there?”
“Sarrra?”
Sara would have relaxed if Grissom hadn’t sounded so strange. Is he drunk?
“Yeah, hey, what’s going on?” Sara asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and fighting back a yawn.
“I don’t know,” Grissom answered, his words coming out slower then normal, his tone one of confusion. “I think, I…think…”
Sara was starting to get a little scared by Grissom’s behavior. Reaching out, she flipped on the bedside lamp as she focused her full attention on the call. “Gil?”
“I think I crashed?”
WHAT? Sara’s mind and body were wide awake and on complete alert. “What do you mean you think you crashed?” Her voice was steady and calm, the complete opposite of how she felt.
Sara could hear Grissom groan in obvious pain. There was a rustling noise and for a panicked moment she thought she had lost him. “Gil? You still there?” Her eyes darted to the screen of her phone checking for the connection once more. “Gil, damn it, answer me.”
“Sara,” Grissom whispered. “I, I…it’s good to hear you, your voice.”
Sara had already swung into action, her feet quickly making her way to her mother’s room. Flipping on the room light, Sara crossed to her mother’s bed, the gray haired woman frowning at the bright light and rude awakening. “Sara?” she said in confusion.
Sara pulled the phone away from her mouth, her ear still listening to Grissom’s confused stammering. “I need your help.”
Laura Sidle didn’t hesitate as she swung her aging legs from her bed, sitting on the edge and taking the cordless phone Sara was handing to her.
“I triedta drive slow,” Grissom continued on, his words slurring occassionally. “I, I musta blacked outtagin.”
Sara had been in the process of writing down Catherine Willows number when Grissom’s words connected with her. “Blacked out?” Sara asked, her hand stilling. “Why did you black out?”
There was another long groan that ended on a sharp gasp. “Blood,” Grissom spoke his voice sounding far off, distracted, like he wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular.
Sara’s heart rate ramped up another few beats, her hand quickly finishing the phone number and handing it to her mother. Call, she mouthed to her mother, who hastily did her bidding, her dark eyes concerned.
“Blood? What blood Gil?” Sara tried to keep her voice even, calm. “Tell me where you are and I’ll get help to you.”
There was a long silence but Sara knew they were still connected. “Gil?” She wanted to cry, she could feel the hot burn threatening at the back of her eyes. He was hurt and confused and she felt utterly helpless. “Please talk to me,” she said in a tiny voice.
“I’m sorry.” Sara heard him say and she could swear she heard a hitch in his voice.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she told him. She had told him that before, when they had talked but Grissom couldn’t seem to believe he hadn’t somehow screwed everything up.
Laura signaled to her daughter that Catherine was on the other line.
“Gil, I want you to stay with me, okay,” Sara tried to put as much authority in her voice as possible. “I’m going to get you some help.”
Taking the cordless phone from her mother, Sara place it to her other ear, twisting her cell phone partially away. “Catherine?”
“Hey, Sara, it’s ni-“
“Catherine do you know where Gil is?” Sara cut the other woman off.
“Well, he was at this hit and run outside of Jewell,” Catherine explained. “But I’m a little worried I haven’t seen him back in the lab yet. Why?”
The other woman’s cautious curiosity was easily detected. “I think he’s been in some kind of accident. I have him on my cell.”
“His cell is on?”
“Yes, can you get Archie to triangulate it for you?”
Catherine didn’t even try to bother with explaining legalities because she didn’t care. Her friend might be in trouble and the fine print of the law was not going to stop her in finding him. “Keep him on the line, Sara. See if he can tell you anything about his location. I’ll call you back.”
“Hey babe, still with me?” Sara put as much cheerfulness into her voice as she could muster.
There was a long pause before Grissom finally answered her. “I found his watch,” Grissom said, his words causing Sara to frown. “Rolex Submariner. It…it had his name engraved on the back.”
“Gil, whose name was engraved on the watch? Is this a case?”
“I think he knew, he…gaahhd this hurts.” A long pause had Sara nearly speaking up. “I think the,” Grissom hissed before groaning again, “uhh, yeah… still under the…under the skin.”
Sara’s eyes widened. Grissom’s disjointed speech was confusing her but more importantly it was starting to scare the hell out of her. “Gil, listen to me closely. Can you tell me where you are? Catherine is trying to locate you by the GPS on your cell.”
Silence.
“Gil?”
More silence.
“Gilbert Michael Grissom, you answer me now!”
Laura Sidle came up to her daughter, laying a reassuring hand on her daughter’s arm as tears of fear and frustration began to escape the corners of her eyes. “Please Babe, please talk to me.”
Sara snapped the phone from her ear, checking the screen for proof that she was still connected to Grissom. “Damn it!” She snapped, realizing the call had ended.
Sara’s thumb stabbed at the buttons of her phone that would connect her back with Grissom.
One ring…two rings…three rings…
“Come on, pick up,” she pled.
…four rings…’This is Grissom, leave a message.’
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” Sara cursed, snapping the phone shut and literally throttling it.
She’d have sent the devise crashing into her mother’s bedroom wall if it wasn’t for the fact that she needed for Grissom to get a hold of her. Opening the phone, Sara tried Grissom’s number three more times, her nervous feet traversing the distance from her mother’s bedroom to the living room, before she took the phone her mother still held.
It seemed like time had purposely come to a near standstill just to torture her. Pacing nervously, she was about to hang up and try a different number when she heard Catherine answer with a short clipped, “Willows.”
“Catherine,” Sara groaned in relief. “Anything?”
“Archie’s still working on it,” Catherine informed her.
Sara could hear Nick and Greg in the background and could picture the two men hovering over the A/V Tech as Archie tried to do his job.
“Is he still on the line with you?” Catherine asked, her voice tight.
Sara shook her head even though Catherine could not see it. “No. We got cut off and all I’m getting is his voicemail.” Sara ran her free hand nervously through her hair. She was trembling. “I think he’s hurt, Catherine. There’s something wrong and…” Sara ran her hand along her forehead, cradling her head as she slumped forward, unable to finish her line of thought.
“We’ll find him,”
Catherine’s determined voice was the kick Sara needed. Nodding, Sara said, “Call me when you know something.”
“I will.”
* * * * * * * * * *
When James Brass was angry he was a force of nature, a thing to be feared and avoided. Like a malevolent storm he marched through the halls leading to the A/V lab. Those with a healthy dose of self-preservation quickly scattered at his approach. Storming through the door his eyes went straight for Catherine.
“Dumbass trooper left him at the scene seven hours ago.”
Brass’ voice was venom and retribution rolled into one, sounding like the trooper in question would be lucky if he got away with survivable injuries.
“Seven hours ago!” Nick nearly yelled. “Well, he could be anywhere,” he threw his hand at the screens Archie was using to find Grissom’s cell signal.
Brass gave Nick a look that told the younger man he wasn’t interested in where Grissom could be but where he was!
“Hey, hey,” Archie bounced in his seat. “His phone was bouncing of this tower.” Archie indicated a red triangle with a pen mouse.
“Archie, overlay this with the road map of the area,” Catherine ordered, stepping closer to the A/V Tech. “Jim, where did the Trooper leave Gil?”
Brass stepped forward, slipping in front of Greg to stand next to Catherine. “According to the ex-Trooper it was near mile marker 127 on this highway.” Brass indicated the road with his finger.
“Archie-“
“Got it,” Archie cut in, already anticipating Catherine’s next request, his digital pen tapping on the screen. “Looks like a dead spot.”
“What?” Catherine asked, wanting Archie to explain.
“The height and power of the signal tower can’t reach, the topography.” Archie clarified.
“Well, if this is where he was,” Brass pointed to the section on the map, “and this is the tower that he was last using,” he indicated the tower on the map. “Then he’s probably somewhere in between.”
“It’s a place to start,” Catherine agreed. Turning to Archie as she followed the three men from the room, Catherine said, “Call me if anything comes up.”
Archie nodded, watching the four hustle from the lab.
IV:
The early morning light filtered into the room through the partially open curtains. Grissom berated himself for not thinking about pulling them closed during the night but he had had other concerns on his mind, like the comfort of the woman nestled tightly to his side. After telling him about the death of her father, Sara had broken down, her anguished sobs rending his heart as no other sound could.
There was no hesitation as he reached for her hand, holding in his firm, warm grip as she cried a lifetimes worth of tears. It had taken Sara several minutes to compose herself enough to speak to Grissom but by that time he had pulled her on to the couch next to him. Fitting her head under his chin as his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, not daring to look him in the eye.
Grissom leaned back, his hand reaching out to gently tip her chin up so that she could see the sincerity of his words in his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Grissom softly stated, holding her gaze with the deep blue of his eyes. “Nothing,” his thumb gently caressed her cheek
A deep, tired sigh escaped Sara’s lungs as her head fell exhaustedly to Grissom’s sturdy shoulder. She was tired of being strong and for just a few moments in time wanted the comfort of another…of Grissom. She trusted him more than anyone. She couldn’t explain it, justify it or quantify it; it just was the way it was.
Sara had fallen asleep lying against Grissom. With careful movements he leaned back along the couch, keeping Sara close to his side until they were both stretched out as best as the small couch would allow, Grissom’s right leg bent and hanging off the side.
Grissom found himself mesmerized by the morning light dancing softly about Sara’s head. The natural sheen of her hair, the way her lashes laid against her cheeks, her slightly parted lips, all had the man awestruck as he soaked in everything. Grissom wondered if she could hear the increasing beat of his heart.
The beat…the steady beat…like…rain?
Grissom groaned heavily, his brows furrowed deeply as he squinted against the pre-dawn light. The mountain ridges were splashed with pale pink and orange light, while the shallow valleys were still blanketed in shadow. It was one of those odd meteorological moments when sunshine punched holes through gray clouds, giving those below a respite from the gloom.
The rain drummed a steady beat on the crushed roof of the Denali, picking up its tempo as the dim morning light succumbed to the clouds. Like the colors of the new day, Grissom’s memories of his time with Sara were slowly being clouded over. His present situation appearing more dire with the trickle of pale light.
Grissom could make out the caked blood covering his right hand and could see the trail of blood staining the right arm of the gray, long sleeved Henley shirt he was wearing, the blood appearing black in the dim light. He reached for the rearview mirror and roughly adjusted it, trying to determine the extent of his head wound.
Dried blood had his curly hair matted to the side of his head with random spikes sticking out here and there. The wound had slowed to a trickle but the evidence of its once healthy flow could be seen in the dried stream of blood that meandered across his cheek and down towards his mouth and chin, disappearing in the whiskers there.
Around Christmas, Grissom had stopped shaving, tired of the man that he saw each day in the mirror. After a few days with the beard, Grissom again found himself before the large vanity mirror in the bathroom, staring, staring, staring. He didn’t like that man any better than the one he had seen there days before. Both somehow reminded him of Sara. The first was the one that had some how failed to protect and keep her, the second was a reminder of the one that had taken a chance and opened his heart to her. Grissom hated them both at that moment and had trimmed the beard into a goatee, thus transforming himself into the man he was…the man without Sara.
Sara! He’d been talking to Sara. Grissom unzipped his work vest, a momentary spark of panic flaring in him at the dark bloom of blood. It covered his entire left side, the present position of his body having the blood slowly pool and stain the hip and upper thigh of his khakis.
A deep sigh broke the silence in the crumpled truck as Grissom laid his head back against the seat, an odd calm settling over him. He needed to talk to Sara. He needed to tell her so many things, he needed…to hear her voice one last time.
Grissom spotted his cell phone near the center console of the truck. With a painful effort he reacquired the dropped phone his thumb easily working the buttons that would connect him with Sara.
“Gil!”
Sara’s breathy, eager voice had Grissom relaxing into the seat, a tiny, contented smile adorning his blood caked face. He loved that voice, could listen to it forever but time was short and he needed to let her know…
“Everything,” Grissom spoke aloud.
“Gil, oh babe, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you forever.” Sara’s voice shook with her relief, her words coming out in a rush.
Grissom smiled a tired but happy smile. “Honey, I need you to,” Grissom gritted his teeth as a fresh, sharp pain ripped through his side, “write something down for me.”
“Write? Sure, okay.”
Grissom could hear her moving about. A memory of her moving about their kitchen in search of a pen to write her to do list coming to the forefront of his mind, soothing his tired soul.
“Okay,” Sara told him.
Grissom concentrated on the evidence he had collected, the evidence that would have undoubtedly put the driver of the car Rachel Miller had been struck by in jail for a very long time. The evidence of the man who shot me, Grissom thought.
“Rachel Miller evidence of possible sexual assault at Muir Peak. Tire cast at mile 127, high end radial, probably from a 2007 Mustang driven by Cray Thomas.” Grissom paused, the taste of blood in his mouth telling him he needed to hurry. “Rolex Submariner RS-06-2cva,” Grissom sighed, “I can’t remember the rest.”
“Gil, why are you giving me case evidence?” Sara’s voice was heavy with suspicion and worry.
Grissom smiled. That’s my Sara, he thought proudly.
“Please, just write for me,” he said softly, he could almost see the worried frown on her face. “New case… Black ski mask, average height, slight build, heterochromia,” Grissom paused, knowing the next will frighten Sara, “Baretta 9mm, black…two casings, I think-“
“Gil?”
Sara’s voice is a mixture of fear, worry and pain and Grissom hates that he has to do this to her. He continues on, “Casings will be near the tire cast I-“
“Gil…what’s this new case?” Sara asked, wary of his answer.
The blackness threatening his consciousness has Grissom putting aside the crime scene. “I dreamt about you,” Grissom finally said, his voice almost serene. “I dream about you every time I close my eyes,” and briefly, Grissom allowed his eyes to drift shut. “I…I understand why you had to go. I do, don’t ever think…”
Grissom hesitated. He needed to say what he had to say right. It was too important to be misconstrued by Sara. I won’t have the opportunity to correct it, he thought with resignation.
“Gil, please…you’re scaring me,” Sara begged.
“Shhh,” Grissom shook his head, a sad smile on his face that she could not see. “Don’t be afraid, don’t…I, I love you. I can’t seem to remember a time when I didn’t love you. I remember thinking,” his world was getting fuzzy again, the edges turning gray, “you stole my heart but the truth, the truth was it was yours to have…all along. I, I wish…”
His head felt heavy, too heavy so he laid it back against the headrest. The act of holding the phone up to his ear was becoming impossible so Grissom put the cell phone on speakerphone and set it on the seat next to him, imagining for the moment that she sat next to him.
“Sara?”
“I’m here baby,” Sara said, fighting the trembling in her voice.
Grissom sighed and closed his eyes, the ability to focus them beyond his capabilities. “Do you remember the fantasy case?”
“Yes.”
“You asked me about my fantasy but I joked, I,” Grissom spit the blood filling his mouth out. “All my fantasies but one had come true by then.”
“Really, then all those other fantasies we worked on…they were just bonus material?” Sara sniffled and chuckled.
Grissom joined her in the act of laughing feeling both wonderfully good and excruciatingly painful. The piercing pain in his side caused a burning, almost ripping sensation. “Yeah,” he chuffed.
“Gil, Catherine and Jim are on their way to you,” Sara told him, trying to reassure him as much as herself. “So you need to just hold on okay.”
Grissom’s head rolled to the side his face pointing in the direction of the cell phone. “I had experienced the most fulfilling fantasies…I got to watch you fall asleep each night...”
Grissom could see her, a smile on her lips, her beautiful, exhausted eyes valiantly trying to stay open as the backs of his fingers gently caressed her cheek.
“…and wake each morning.”
Every night, she would fight of consciousness for just a few more moments of lying replete in his arms, her long legs stretching out along his as she snuggled into to his welcoming side.
Grissom sighed, the heavy fog of darkness pulling on him. It seemed hard to breath, his chest feeling heavy, his body pained and weary. Sleep, blessed sleep, seemed to be an awaiting haven.
“Sara, talk to me?” Grissom’s voice was low, his words coming out slow as his body slumped to his right. “I can’t ever remember your voice…in my dreams.”
“Gil? Gil Grissom, you talk to me right now!” Sara demanded sharply, her tears and fear radiating through the phone. “Gil, please sweetheart…I need to know you’re alright.”
Grissom smiled weakly only for it to wane quickly. “I love you,” he said, his words barely above a whisper.
“Gil, stay with me,” Sara tried to coax. “Talk with me, please.”
Silence.
Sara checked the connection. “Gil? Gil, you answer me right now!” Her order ended on a broken sob. “Please, I need you,” she begged, before whispering, “I love you too.”
Grissom wanted to reach out and hold her, to let her know that she would be okay, he would be okay. Because as unhappy as he had been without her, it was nothing to the joy he had felt when he was with her. Sara had brought color and warmth to his world. He had not realized how far from life he had wandered until Sara’s vibrancy had cut through his cold, sterile environment and pulled him back. Like a blind man roaming a black desert, Grissom had not known he was lost until Sara gave him sight.
He wanted to thank her for loving him, to thank her for letting him love her but he was sinking quickly into the black morass that was taking over his world. He was not afraid to go but he hated to leave her..’O sweet one, true heart o’ mine, I shall love you beyond time.’ I…I love you Sara.
V:
The overcast sky had condemned the beautiful colors of the dawn to another day. Gray clouds, cold, gray mountain and a light gray mist had saturated the other shades of the spectrum. Even the light drizzle that fell looked gray. Catherine prayed it wasn’t some horrible portent, signaling the outcome of their day.
Nick had found the tire cast almost immediately, his worried gaze seeking Catherine’s for some kind of reassurance that their friend was alright. Catherine was about to tell him it could mean anything when Greg discovered the first of the two 9mm shell casings. Her heart sank and cool morning, mountain air had nothing on the chill that pierced her chest.
Catherine willed herself to be calm. Sara had said that Grissom had told her he was in an accident, not shot. But what if it was both? Catherine raised her hand to her stocking capped covered head, stunned as she realized the events that had probably unfolded the night before.
“Oh, God,” the words rushed forth.
“What?” Nick and Greg both turned desperate eyes on her.
Brass, who had been barking orders into his radio nearby, noticed Catherine’s reaction and approached the three CSIs. “Catherine?” He asked, a wary edge to his voice.
“The Trooper left him alone, heading down the mountain towards Jewell,” Catherine pointed off to her left. “Grissom’s suspect waits, probably in the opposite direction and while Gil is finishing processing this scene,” Catherine turns towards the road, “his back to the road,” she turns her eyes back to the spot where Greg found the shell casing, “the bastard shoots him…twice.”
Three sets of startled eyes took in the woman and the scene. The horror of it plastered on the men’s faces.
“If Grissom was shot, why isn’t he here?” Nick demanded, trying to punch holes in Catherine’s scenario.
It was a kind of self-protection mechanism. If Nick found a flaw in her theory then he could argue it didn’t happen that way and that their friend was alright, as illogical as that was. Even before Catherine defended her scenario, Nick had come to realize what had transpired next. “He was only wounded,” he groaned.
Catherine nodded before turning on her heel. “Gil’s smart,” she announced needlessly, starting to run towards her Denali.
“He would try and make it down the mountain,” Brass called out as he jumped into the passenger seat.
* * * * * * * * *
Warrick had taken the task of searching the town of Jewell, questioning the people Grissom had questioned, looking for any sign that Grissom had been through more recently then yesterday afternoon. He was traveling the mountain highway towards Grissom’s crime scene when he thought he caught the faint line of tire marks. Swerving across his lane, the marks pointed towards the metal railing protecting the curve of the road from the steep slope beyond.
Warrick pulled off to the side of the road, the tires of his SUV crunching the gravel as he came to a stop. Throwing the truck in park, Warrick jumped from his vehicle and rushed around the rear end, his eyes had caught something, causing his pulse to quicken.
The railing was unbroken but not unmarred. The ends of the guard rail arced downward, nearly touching the rocky earth. The higher end of the guard rail was coated in what Warrick assumed was motor oil considering the bent up oil pan lying near the rail. Rushing forward, Warrick immediately realized what had happened to his friend.
“GRIS!” Warrick shouted, just barely able to see the mangled roof of the Denali. “GRIS!”
Warrick ran back to his truck throwing open the back end. He was willing to take on the slope without the support of a rope or harness but if he had to get a wounded Grissom back up he was going to need all the help he could get. Warrick threw his climbing harness over his shoulder, not bothering to put it on as he secured the rope to the guard rail.
“Catherine, Jim, I found him!” Warrick shouted into his radio, throwing radio protocol aside. “About five miles down the mountain,” Warrick leapt over the railing, “south side of the highway, get the paramedics here now.”
Warrick used the rope to steady himself as he ran-hopped down the rocky slope, his booted feet scattering smaller rocks down into the gully below. The moment he thought he could move faster without the rope, Warrick dropped it, running, almost falling into the rear of the truck. Most of the windows had been shattered by the crushing of the roof, only the tailgate window and the rear driver’s side window had remained intact.
“Gris, hey Grissom, I’m here,” Warrick said, using the vehicle to keep his balance on the uneven terrain.
The SUV had landed right side up but tilted with the driver’s side front end pointing down in to the narrow wash. The roof was buckled and the hood had been partially torn from its hinges, looking like a giant can opener head partially opened the front end.
“WARRICK!”
Warrick looked up at the highway some twenty-five foot above and fifty plus feet away. “NICK! NICK DOWN HERE!”
Warrick caught a glimpse of Nick and Greg launching themselves over the railing, following in the same haphazard way he had earlier. His black gloved hand reached for the door handle but found the door locked. “Damn it,” he cursed, peering into the window.
Grissom was slumped over the center console. “Greg, try the door!” Warrick yelled, seeing the younger man across the cab.
Greg grabbed for the handle but the door was jammed shut by the collapsed roof. “It’s jammed.”
Nick pushed his way in towards the window, pulling his black coat off as he did so. Reaching in as far as he could, Nick covered Grissom’s still form with the coat. “Do it!”
Warrick used the handle of his flashlight to break the window, the safety glass breaking in large spider webbed pieces. Reaching in, heedless of the shards of glass, Warrick slid the manual lock on the door and flung it open. His already racing pulse skyrocketed at the sight of the blood staining the seat.
“Gris,” Warrick hissed seeing the trail of blood.
Nick had skirted the front of the destroyed truck. “Oh, God!” He exclaimed his heart pounding painfully in his chest. “Let’s get him out,” Nick rushed on, reaching in with Warrick as the two men gently extracted Grissom limp form from the truck.
The uneven ground and loose rock made the task more difficult but with Greg’s help, they were able to lay Grissom on a partially flat piece of ground a few feet from the rear bumper of the truck. “WE NEED THE PARAMEDICS!” Greg screamed up at Catherine and Brass, only to see the flashing lights and white roof of the ambulance. “HURRY!”
There was blood every where, matting the hair on the right side of his head and covering that side of his face from eyebrow to chin. The head wound had continued to bleed dripping across his shoulder, staining his gray, long sleeved shirt. Warrick couldn’t see through the caked blood to tell what had caused the wound but it didn’t look good. Grissom was pale, too pale and he couldn’t tell if he was breathing any longer.
“Grissom, if you die on us,” Warrick rocked back on his heels, preparing to get out of the rapidly approaching paramedics way, “Sara’s goin’ to kick all our asses.”
The paramedics slid low, their booted feet grinding across the loose gravel. “What do we got?” One of them asked, already getting the tools of his trade out and ready.
The three friends watched as the paramedics quickly assessed Grissom. When they rolled him over to find the cause of the blood staining his hip and leg, Nick felt a wave of nausea come over him. With the black work vest peeled back, the three men could see that there was blood covering have his back, his shirt a dripping, bloody rag.
“Gun shot wound,” the first paramedic said.
“This guy’s circling the drain,” the second paramedic said as he hastily got Grissom ready for transport. “We need to go now!”
With the CSIs help, the paramedics were able to haul Grissom up the steep slope. It seemed to take forever, as Catherine watched with baited breath, her eyes wide and worried as they brought her wounded friend up.
“Gil,” she called out, trying to stay out of the way as first Greg, and then Nick hurdled the guard rail and took the “basket” gurney from Warrick and one of the paramedics.
It had taken forever to get him up from the gulley and now everything was running at warp speed. Catherine hurried along side Grissom as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance, her hand reaching out to grab his right hand. His skin was pale and cold and he already looked dead. A thought that Catherine silently and angrily berated herself for.
“We’ll meet you there,” Brass told her giving her free hand a squeeze as they slammed the ambulance door shut. The lights and sirens bouncing erratically off the mountain’s side as the ambulance sped away