CSI Redux:

Undertow

February 21, 1996:  01:24am

            St. John’s Hospital was an ever sprawling medical center that mixed old with new. The physical plant that housed the hospital’s boilers and backup generators was a brick and mortar Federalist structure that had survived the Great Quake of 1906 while the new pediatrics wing stood as a giant testament to modern architecture, with crisp lines and open air areas.

            Gil Grissom didn’t notice the architecture of the building. He didn’t notice the large wishing well in the center of the lobby or the people around him as he marched from the double glass doors of the entrance to the pediatric information desk. He had just made it from Las Vegas to San Francisco in record time, thanks to Jim and Catherine.

            If it hadn’t been for them Grissom would have been sitting in a jail cell on a number of charges, the least of which would have been assault. As it was, Jim had made certain Grissom didn’t get a one way ticket downtown in the back of a black and white and Catherine had finessed a seat on the next plane heading to San Francisco.

            “Sara Grissom,” Grissom nearly barked as he slapped his hands down upon the faux marble counter that separated the two women behind the information desk and the rest of the lobby.

            “Sir, visiting hou-“

            “I’m not visiting,” Grissom stated, nearly growling, the look on his face menacing as he glared at the woman that was between him and Sara. “I’m her husband.”

            “Umm, just a minute, Mr. Grissom,” the woman told him, her unsure eyes darting across to her companion before focusing her attention on the monitor before her.

            The tapping of her fingers on the keyboard seemed especially grating on Grissom’s nerves. He felt the overwhelming urge to jump across the desk and rip the keyboard from the woman’s fingertips and find Sara himself. He was certain the woman was working at half speed.

            An impatient sigh that sounded almost like a growl escaped Grissom’s lips causing the woman to look up in alarm. “Umm, Mrs. Grissom is in room 642. Take the-“

            Grissom didn’t allow the receptionist to finish her directions, marching off in the direction of the elevators, catching the wary eye of a heavyset security guard. Like every second of every minute for the past three hours, Grissom felt like he was being drug through each level of hell as he waited for the floors to tick by.

            He and Catherine had been waiting for the DNA results on a rape case when he had gotten a call from Ike. From the moment his friend had uttered his name Grissom knew something was wrong with Sara. His heart had fluttered in fear and then seemed to stop as the world shrank to the phone’s receiver in Grissom’s hand. He wasn’t even aware of Catherine’s hand on his arm or the worried look that had come over his friend as she watched all the color drain from his pace.

            His mind picked up the words “accident” and “crime scene” and his imagination filled in the rest with horrifying detail.

            “Ike, please,” he had begged in a voice barely above a whisper.

            “They brought her in complaining of stomach pains,” Ike had rushed on. “Katie’s with her. I’m sure everything is going to be okay, Gil. Sara’s strong. It’s probably nothing but-“

“Tell Sara I’m coming,” Grissom had interrupted bringing the call to an abrupt end.

            The fear that had shone through Grissom’s eyes had Catherine pulling on his arm while calling for the lab tech to hold their results. “Come on,” she had said, not bothering to ask him any questions. “I’ll get you to the airport.”

            Catherine had gotten them to airport in a ridiculously short amount of time but then Grissom was forced to contend with an over pruning, pompous man at the ticket counter. His arrogance and unwillingness to do more than the bare minimum effort had Grissom’s hand shooting across the counter and grabbing the startled man by his shirt front.

            Airport security was more than ready to call in the local police to hand Grissom off to when Jim Brass arrived, wisely called in by Catherine. After a little assurance by the police captain and a lot of ego stroking by Catherine, they were able to get Grissom on a flight to California.

            Three hours later he was stepping out on to the sixth floor of St. John’s Hospital. Grissom spotted Ike pacing a waiting area directly off of the elevators and quickly made his way over to his friend.

            “Ike?”

            “Gil, hey, you’re here.”

            Ike rushed forward and gave his friend a curt handshake, wrapping his free arm around Grissom’s shoulder and patting his back while hugging him at the same time.

            “How’s Sara? Where’s Sara?” Grissom rushed, desperate to find his wife.

            The look of fear that washed over Ike’s face had Grissom’s heart racing even faster. “They had to take her to surgery.”

            “Wha- why?”

            “She went into premature labor,” Ike explained, actually ringing his hands as he did so. “They tried to stop it but…the, I…”

            Ike seemed at a loss as he looked at his friend, his mouth fluttering open and closed before he shook his head regretfully.

            Time, again, became Grissom’s enemy, tormenting him with its slow, methodical pace. Tick…Tock…Tick…Tock… Questions swirled in his head at breakneck speed, the endless “what ifs” that could drive a person mad if they contemplated them too long.

            He felt as if he had been tossed into an emotional cyclone. He was scared. He was worried, desperate, angry. Jumping to his feet, Grissom irritably stalked the waiting room. He had already railed at Ike, demanding to know why she had been placed in danger, how she had come to harm. He had already berated himself for not being there to protect Sara and admonished her in absentia for not being more careful.

            As quickly as his anger flared it had died, giving way to fear, the palms of his hands rubbing up along the sides of his face before his fingers ran through his disheveled hair. He was a wreck, Grissom knew it. The only thing keeping him together was the knowledge that Sara and the baby needed him; they needed him to be strong, to focus his energies on them.

            Hope and dread warred within Grissom when he saw Katie walking tiredly down the hall, her hand pulling the surgery cap tiredly from her head. The moment her eyes spotted Grissom staring at her intently, Katie gave him a weary smile that didn’t fully reach her glistening, red rimmed eyes.

            “She’s been crying,” Grissom whispered, finding it hard to breathe.

            Panic seized Grissom forcefully, his blue eyes wide and fearful as Katie approached. He wanted to run as far away from the sad eyed woman before him, find Sara, hold her, tell her he loved her and that everything was going to be alright but his legs didn’t seem to work. God, please, he begged as Katie came up and placed her hand on his chest. Does my heart still beat?

“Sara?” He implored.

            Katie took his hand and gripped it firmly.

            “Sara’s resting. She lost a lot of blood but she is doing well.” Katie gave his hand a little shake, fearing her words were bouncing off of fear induced deaf ears. “You’ll be able to see her in a little while.”

            My heart beats!

“And the baby?” Grissom asked, his voice cracking with the swell of emotions.

            Grissom watched as new tears welled up in Katie’s dark eyes. Gripping his hand with both of hers she pressed a soft kiss on his fingers. “Sweetie, listen…he’s alive…”

            He? We have a son!

            “…complications…”

            Complications!

            “…but I am cautiously hopeful. We have to hold on to the fact that Sara is going to be alright and the baby, he’s hanging in there for us. So you do the same.”

            The room was spinning and he felt nauseous and thankful and scared all at the same time. Sara was okay. Their son was alive but he could tell by Katie’s worried gaze that their baby wasn’t out of danger yet. Sara…

            “I need to see Sara, Katie, please.”

            Grissom’s blue eyes searched the hall behind Katie. If he had to he would search every door until he found her.

            “Alright,” Katie said, realizing that her friend would not be deterred from seeing his wife. “Let me find out where they will be taking her once the anesthesia wears off, okay?”

            Grissom nodded furiously. “And our baby?”

            “The nurses are taking care of him in the NICU ward,” Katie informed him. “First, Sara then I’ll take you to see him, alright?”

            Grissom nodded again. He would agree to anything just to be able to feel the warmth of Sara’s skin, to see her chest rise and fall with each breath, a confirmation that she was indeed still with him.

           
            *  *  *  *

February 21, 1996:  04:01am

            Everything had become very surreal. One moment he was standing in a waiting area with Katie and Ike trying to comfort him and bolster his hope and the next clear moment Grissom could remember was standing at the foot of Sara’s bed. If asked he couldn’t have said exactly how he had gotten there, surely by foot, but he had no recollection of doing the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other.

            Ike could have said he carried Grissom and Grissom would have nodded dumbly, truly unaware of the world around him. His world had narrowed to the woman lying so still in the bed before him. Sara’s head was turned from the door. Her dark hair, a beautiful mess of curls, hid her eyes so that Grissom was uncertain as to whether she was asleep or awake.

            As if sensing his uncertain presence in the room, Sara turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy and upon seeing Grissom, Sara’s heartrending brown gaze swam in fresh tears as she choked on his name and began to weep loudly. Grissom was at her side in an instant, gathering her gently into his arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

            “Shh,” he soothed as he ran his hand from the crown of her head down to her shoulder again and again, desperately trying to comfort her while maintaining a grip on his own raw emotions.

            Grissom pressed a firm kiss to Sara’s temple, his hands coming up to grip her face before his gaze captured her sad brown eyes. “It’ll be okay,” Grissom whispers in between a series of small kisses to her face.

            Sara hiccupped in between sobs, fresh tears streaking down her pale face. “I’m sorry, so…sorry,” Sara cried.

            Her anguish tore through Grissom like molten shrapnel, spearing his heart, nearly flooring him. “No,” he told her, taking her hands gently from her face. “He hasn’t given up,” Grissom leaned forward, placing Sara’s hands against his heart, “and we can’t give up either.”

            Sara searched Grissom’s eyes, seeking the strength within that she so desperately needed. Sniffling, Sara nodded.

            “Okay,” Grissom whispered his gaze poignant as he watched her.

            “Yes,” Sara whispered, her voice rough from the many tears she had shed.

            Grissom ran the palm of his hand down along one cheek, his lips pressing a kiss in the other. “You rest,” he told her, adding at the shake of her head, “You won’t do him any good if you’re not at a hundred percent, so please listen to me, okay?”

            Sara hesitated, her brow furrowed with pain and uncertainty before she finally gave him a nod, seeming defeated as she sank further into her pillow and closing her eyes.

            Grissom leaned down and planted a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered. “Sleep now.”

            With hesitant steps Grissom turned from Sara and followed Ike and a teary eyed Katie from the room. Closing the door behind him, Grissom turned to Katie his face a mixture of misery and strength as he said, “I want to see my son.”

            Katie hooked her arm with his, hugging it tight, she led him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Grissom followed her willingly, his mind focused on the son he’d yet to meet. He didn’t know what to expect but knew enough to know that the baby, at only twenty-three weeks, was fighting for his young life.