Living Hell – Chapter 4 and Epilogue

by Lapsus Stili (aka. Slip of the Pen)

Rating: Teen (nothing naughty in this chapter)

Word Count: about 2750

Spoilers: Living Doll and Dead Doll

Disclaimers: I’m just playing “What-If” with these borrowed characters – unfortunately they’re not mine. Not even nearly.

Summary: AU. A wrap-up of what could have happened (but thankfully didn’t) after Sara was abducted in the Season 7 finale. GSR-centric. Chapter 4 is from Sara’s perspective and the Epilogue is a narrative.

Chapter 4

When I first came home, our friends were clamoring to come by. We almost had to post a damn schedule to keep track of the comings and goings – it was that hectic. Eventually things settled down. They were satisfied that I was ok, or as ok as could be expected all things considered. Plus, I think that my sour mood made things a little uncomfortable for everyone. In time the drop-ins seemed to become more a matter of occasional obligation. Looking back I readily admit that I was a bitter, bitter woman. I sometimes wondered if they came over because they truly wanted my company, or if there was something else behind it. Perhaps Grissom had been prodding them in an effort to boost my spirits, or maybe to make me realize how much I missed them so I would be more likely to want to head back to work.

Granted, there was always the possibility that they came out of pity. I used to think that a lot but I’m trying very hard not to let my thoughts continue in such a negative manner. That dark cloud has been hanging over me for far too long. I allowed myself to wallow for long enough, and it’s time to get on with things.

So I’ve chosen to ignore those nagging thoughts that people are feeling sorry for me, or that I’m seriously the most unlucky person on the planet, or that poor Gil is just stuck with this useless shell of a person. That’s not who I want to be anymore. It’s taken months of running things around in my head, talking my fool head off to Bruno (who thankfully doesn’t mind my incessant ramblings), and surprisingly the sessions with my therapist have helped my immensely. Never thought I’d say that in this lifetime. I suppose it probably helps that I became a willing participant in those meetings rather than just sulking in silence and occasionally gracing the poor woman with a non-committal shrug.

Most important, though, was the deep, heartfelt, (and often tearful) talks that I had with Gil. My love. My rock. It took a lot to open up. He’s not the only pro at hiding from problems. Once we accidentally stumbled into some honest discussions though, I was amazed at how things started to look a little brighter. The twinge of hope was faint, but it was there and I clung to it knowing that I couldn’t go on the way I had been.

They weren’t all fun and games, of course. It was damn hard. The first of the real “biggie” talks was definitely the worst though. I had finally worked up the nerve to broach the subject of him being better off with someone else. Well, let’s just say that as sure as I was that this really was for the best, the idea did not go over very well. At all. Not even nearly.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so mad, nor have I heard him yell like that – before or since that day. Gil is generally a quiet seether when he gets pissed off, and more likely to skulk off to deal with things alone. Although I vaguely recall hearing that he once heaved a coffee pot across the breakroom over something Ecklie said or did, I’ve never personally been a direct witness to his rage. It was brief, but it wasn’t pretty.

At first he said nothing. He blinked at his crossword puzzle for a moment, then lifted his gaze and stared back at me with eyes like saucers. Then the redness began to creep up his neck, flaming across his cheeks, and he actually snapped his pencil with his shaking death grip on it. I immediately wished I had kept my mouth shut. It was too late to take it back though – it was already out there.

His first words, so very quiet and quivering just a bit, were, “You think I’d be better off with you?”

Since that was pretty much exactly what I had said word for word, I figured it was a rhetorical question, so I said nothing. Apparently I was wrong.

He followed this with a thundering, “YOU HONESTLY THINK I’D BE BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU? FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, SARA…HOW THE HELL CAN YOU SAY THAT? I… WITH EVERYTHING WE… YOU JUST…”

I sank further and further back against the headboard, sliding against the pillows as much as I could with the strap supporting me, while he continued his verbal rampage. Deep down I knew he would never hurt me. Not in a million years. But nonetheless I recoiled instinctively, eyes wide. A childhood force of habit rearing its ugly head at a most inopportune moment. And Gil noticed.

And he stopped.

The sorrow that doused the flames from his eyes made my heart drop like a stone into my gut. I had cut him badly. With that one simple movement he now thought that I was afraid of him, waiting for the blows to come, expecting that he would lash out quick and hard as my father had done so often. And of course he never would… he never, ever would.

Now he was angry, hurt, and felt guilty for scaring me on top of it all. Nice going Sara. That was not how I thought that conversation would go. I wasn’t actually sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Gil ran a palm across his face, startled a bit to find he was sweating up a storm, then scooted around on top of the tousled blankets to face me. My hands were like ice, but I don’t think he noticed when he took hold of them. He looked down at our joined hands with a longing I hadn’t seen since before we became an us, caressing my flesh with his thumbs. After a few deep breaths he calmed and started again.

This was a turning point for both of us. He told me about how empty he had felt the moment he realized that monster had abducted me, and that hollow sensation echoed through him all the time they were frantically searching for me. It had partially eased when he finally laid eyes on me out in the burning desert, but he went on to say that he wasn’t able to truly breathe until I opened my eyes and looked right at him later in the ambulance. He didn’t know why but that was when he just knew that everything would be ok. One way or another we would get through it together. To-ge-ther. He had repeated it looking in my eyes, making sure I understood that there was nowhere else he would rather be than with me… with us.

The two of us cried a river that day, but it was the start of our healing. My body had recovered and adjusted from my injuries, but my soul had not. I hadn’t let it. There was no surgery for that kind of wound. Our talks though, dealing with our emotional pain at last – that was intensely therapeutic.

I told him everything I’d been toiling over. Admitting my fears, saying it all out loud, was scary to say the least. It shouldn’t have been. Gil reassured me on every point. It wasn’t pity or a sense of obligation that kept him by my side. His unwavering love and support shone through with every word.

Our talks also opened my eyes to his pain too – things he had been struggling with in silence but had kept locked inside because he felt I had more than enough on my plate to deal with already. Then I brought up some of the horrible dreams that had been plaguing me. And damn – wasn’t he having his own nightmares, too. Tears spilled down his face as he described finding my crushed body, lifeless, submerged in a puddle beneath that mangled car every time he closed his eyes. A flash-frame scene that haunted him again and again.

For the thousandth time I apologized for letting this happen and for ruining what we had. To which he argued back that it was his fault – if only he had figured out who the miniature killer was sooner, then the tragedy would have been avoided. In the end we both agreed that neither of us were really to blame. It was all her doing, her madness, and since we were never going to get an “I’m sorry” from her, we decided that we would try to let go of our perceived guilt about any of it. Topic closed. End of discussion (the end of that one, at least).

Surprisingly, we laughed that day too. Laughed at how both he and I stewed in our own juices to spare each other’s feelings. Ironically that’s what led to both of us getting hurt and feeling miserable. Some geniuses we turned out to be. Brass has said on numerous occasions that we are the dumbest smart people he knows. I think he’s right.

After that day things started looking up. It took time, of course, but Gil and I made a point of talking more – really talking. I resolved to quit feeling sorry for myself all the time. Yes, it’s true that what happened sucked. Big time. Yes, my life has been drastically changed. Our lives have changed. The fact is that there is still a life left to live and I haven’t been living it. Not really. For the past year I’d been letting myself float in limbo, mourning what was lost but forgetting to recognize that what remained was precious, too.

Our love.

I don’t need to write in this journal anymore. Despite my new body, my new life, I’m still me. I’m a product of my past experiences – good and bad – just like everyone else. I still love Gil. He’s a gentle, caring man who has helped me to see that he loves me the same as he always has and always will. I know that he has no intention of ever turning away from the life we’ve made together.

That’s good, because neither do I.

Epilogue…

Grissom closed the leather diary that he’d been thumbing through for hours, and set it beside him on the wooden bench. The cover of the book was soft and worn. He sat quietly, surrounded by the lush gardens, listening to the warbling chitter of an ornery Northern Flicker feeding in a nearby tree. Many evenings were spent this way now.

When Sara had decided to move forward in a positive light about a year after her accident, part of her evolution involved getting outside more and enjoying the great outdoors again. Gil wanted to give her a glorious paradise, and he slowly transformed their drab manicured backyard into a bright haven over the years. Since Gil never does anything half-assed, he became a regular fixture at a number of local garden nurseries, keeping the staff on their toes with his never-ending arsenal of questions.

In time, the palette of textures and tones grew. Now clumps of black-eyed susan’s poked out from a sea of all different types of hostas. Saliva, coneflowers, bleeding hearts and astilbe all blended together in harmony, their varying colors highlighted against the backdrop of flowering shrubs around the perimeter of the yard. Sara would come home and meander through the garden along the wide cut-stone path they’d had installed. After a long shift, she said it was the perfect way to unwind.

Yes, Sara did go back to work. It was uncomfortable at first as she got settled into her new routine, but she spent the next 9 years working on documentation and training manuals, and even consulted on cases in-house. No more field work, but she happily discovered it was just as rewarding to be contributing to the background knowledge-base of them upcoming CSI’s. When Gil retired at 60, Sara decided to follow suit. Although she was only 45, they were financially comfortable and wanted to spend quality time together, maybe travel a bit.

So they did.

Bit by bit they visited most of the places on their list - Paris, Rome, Sydney, Vancouver, Lima, and Buenos Aries. They even spent a couple of weeks in northern Alaska one June just to experience the summer there when the sun never sets. With all the time that the couple had spent as nocturnals, it was a wonderful change of pace to live without darkness for a while.

There were some fantastic places they stopped in along the way, but as beautiful as they were, the pair always made their way back to Vegas. They may have been born in different parts of California, but Las Vegas, Nevada would forever be their home. It’s where they felt most comfortable and with little discussion they agreed that’s where they wanted to spend the rest of their lives.

Which is exactly what Sara managed to do.

She passed away last month. She was 61. The symptoms she experienced were so few and so mild that by the time the alarm bells rang there was little to do but put her affairs in order and cherish her final weeks with Gil.

It was a good death, as deaths go. If you have to get cancer, apparently ascending colon cancer is the way to go – reasonably pain free in her case, but too far advanced to bother wasting precious time in a treatment-filled battle. There were more important things that she wanted to do with her remaining time, like be with her husband and their friends. She was able to stay at home, which is exactly where she wanted to be. They kept her comfortable right to the end with pain meds that Gil could administer himself.

Sara’s last day was perfect - sunny with a warm breeze blowing in the window that looked out over the gardens. He was reading to her from a battered collection of poems that they both enjoyed. When it was time – and she knew that it was time – she squeezed Gil’s hand and smiled at him. In a quiet, sure voice she thanked him for loving her, for being more than she ever deserved, and told him she’d see him again soon.

Sitting here today watching the sky pinken towards twilight, Gil could almost feel that final whisper of a kiss that they shared. He cherished the fact that he was with her until the end. They had time to say their goodbyes, and then he told her he loved her and how much he would miss her, and that he looked forward to being with her again.

Flipping through her journal, the one her therapist had her start writing in as part of her recovery, always brought tears to his eyes. Some tears were from sadness, for the horror and struggles that she endured, but other tears were gratitude. Horrible as that experience had been, in the long run it had made her a stronger person, made them a stronger couple. Reading her words about her ordeal and later when she slowly regained a modicum of hope in her life – her discovery that she still had a life – helped Gil feel closer to her. It made it easier to be here without her.

With a sigh he gripped the cane resting against his leg, steadied it, then leaned heavily on it and pushed to his feet. Once he had his balance, Grissom shifted his weight a little until his bad left knee gave an audible, but relieving pop. That out of the way, he turned back and grabbed Sara’s diary, tucking it safely in the crook of his arm. He glanced around to make sure he hadn’t left anything on the bench. He routinely managed to leave his reading glasses behind, but today they were safely perched on his nose where they belonged.

The shuffle back to the patio doors was slow, but that was just fine by him – he had nowhere special to be just then anyhow. In the waning light the crickets began their night song, bringing a smile to the man’s face. As he slid the door open and stepped into the coolness of the living room, Gil’s focus was drawn to the large photo hanging by the door. His eyes wet a bit as he stepped up and brought a shaking old hand up to trace the curves of Sara’s face on their wedding day so long ago.

Before turning away and heading to bed, he smiled at her and said, “Soon, my love. I’ll be there soon.”

... FIN …

A/N: I apologize for the delay in finishing up this story. Life got explosively busy for a while. For any of you who've been good enough to stick around and get through all of this, I hope the end was worth the wait. Cheers!