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Quiet Desperation
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Chapter 11 Grissom was in his kitchen making a fresh batch of coffee when the door to his townhouse slammed open. He’d slept poorly; the events of the last few days continued to torment him in his dreams. After a long shower, he’d checked his messages and seen that she was on her way over. “Hello, Catherine,” he called out as he continued his preparations. “I’ve been expecting you.” “Don’t give me that shit.” “And a good afternoon, too,” he said dryly as he tilted his head to the side. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded as she entered his kitchen, waving him off when he offered her a plate of cookies. “I get a call from Burdick telling me I’m now working graveyard. I swear, if you pulled me away from my own shift…” “Trust me, Catherine, this wasn’t my idea.” In her annoyance, she’d yet to notice his demeanor. Watching him closely, she saw the signs he tried to mask. There was anger, but more troubling was a raw pain. Something had to be terribly wrong for him to even allow those traces to show. “What happened?” she asked, her voice softening with concern.
Grissom busied himself with the coffee mugs. It wasn’t until she repeated the question that he set down the cups and rested his hands on the counter. With a half-hearted shrug, he turned to her. “I’ve been suspended.” She stared at him for a long beat before throwing her hands into the air. That revelation was shocking, but he wasn’t telling her everything. “You were what? What the hell did you do?” “I didn’t do a thing.” “So Burdick just suspended you for the fun of it? Come on, Gil. Give me some credit. You had to do something. What grounds did he use?” “Insubordination. And my anger was justified,” he insisted. “Why don’t you just start at the beginning,” she sighed, pulling the plate of cookies closer as she rested her head on her hand. Grissom returned to fiddling with the mugs, making a pretense of checking the progress of the coffee maker. As much as he wanted her guidance, he was also hesitant to talk. The suspension hurt; his job at the lab was more than a career. For him, it was who he was. He never had to pick this lifestyle; he was born to it. What he did defined his whole self-image, and he felt lost. Even worse was the reason for the suspension. It was groundless, but that didn’t make it any less insidious. Once uttered, the charge was there. Once planted, it would persist, no matter the truth. People would always wonder if there was any truth to it – human nature guaranteed that. He wasn’t a sexist. Old-fashioned, probably, at least in some ways. But his decision not to recommend Sara for the promotion had nothing to do with her sex. Letting out a sigh, he rocked a cup between his hands. In a strictly technical sense, her gender did play into it; he was attracted to her, and in his inability to deal with it directly, he’d set in motion the current situation. What did she think about it? Sara had to know he wasn’t sexist. Grissom remembered her hurt expression when they ‘talked’ about the promotion in the garage, and he wondered if the reason really made any difference to her. It would, he decided. At the very least, he owed her an explanation. She was as qualified, if not more so, than Nick for the position. He’d handled it poorly, and he would apologize for that. All he needed to do was figure out how to do so without coming out and telling her how much he cared; without letting her know the way she thrilled and scared him at the same time; the way she could either be his salvation or his destruction. Nothing major. “Gil, a watched pot never boils. And a watched coffee pot doesn’t brew,” Catherine said kindly. “Actually, it will,” he replied, finally turning around. “I timed it.” “You would.” “I was nine. I thought that saying was stupid. I disproved it.” “Do you really think this is going to be easier if you avoid it?” she asked.
Grissom’s eyebrow rose; in spite of their recent differences, she was as direct as ever. After taking a breath, he recounted all that had happened in his meeting with Burdick. Catherine occasionally stopped him to clarify a point, or to ask for extra details, but kept her explosion in check until he finished. “Dammit! What the hell was Sara trying to pull?” The venomous tone surprised Grissom, again reminding him that he’d underestimated the bad blood between the two female CSIs. His earlier desire to talk to Catherine started to fade. He wanted her assistance, but he now doubted whether she’d really help. “Sara had nothing to do with this.” “Then how did Myers know what was going on? Personnel records are private. Even a special counsel can’t get those. Unless they were supplied.” “Sara had nothing to do with this,” Grissom repeated, his impatience clear. Catherine rolled her eyes, but he pressed on. “The promotion wasn’t some sort of secret. We have leaks in the office. There’s nothing new about that. She probably has someone on the inside giving her information.” “You ever hear of Occam’s Razor? You know, the simplest explanation is the best one. In my book, I’d say getting the information directly is a hell of a lot simpler than getting it from some unknown Mr. X.” “And if you really believed in Occam’s Razor, you’d know that the idea of Sara pulling some sort of game would be high on the improbability list. It’s not the type of person she is. She’s not petty, and she would never endanger an investigation with personal issues. You’re confusing her with someone else,” he said pointedly. Catherine leaned back in her chair and gave him a sharp look. “And you don’t think she has any reason to want to get you?” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Grissom focused on keeping his breathing even, but it did little to help his temper. He was tired, stressed and in no mood for this. But he needed guidance. He had no patience with office politics and even less skill. Catherine excelled in that area. If he wanted to minimize the damage, he’d need her help. “Look, I know you have some sort of issue with Sara. I don’t know why, and right now, I really don’t care. I admit she was upset about the promotion,” he said, the words reluctantly forming. “And other things,” Catherine said. “Be that as it may, she’s not involved in this.” “How can you be so sure?” Grissom took his mug of coffee and moved to a window. Lifting the blinds with one hand, he stared silently. Her line of questioning was bothering him. Just how much animosity had he missed over the years? Sara never mentioned any problems, but he realized she wouldn’t. She was too professional to let problems with a coworker distract her. “It’s been handled.” “Since when have you ever worked through an issue? Especially a personal one?” Grissom snapped his head in her direction, but his glare didn’t bother her. Eventually he returned to staring out the window as he considered her question. He had no idea where he really stood with Sara, but they’d worked well together since then. They’d even joked some. More importantly, she’d confided painful secrets to him. But he also just admitted that she wouldn’t let issues with another CSI affect her work. Grissom had no clue what she felt about the incident or towards him; she just wasn’t letting it stop her from working with him. “I really don’t need this right now,” he said lowly. “Do you even know what you need?” Catherine countered hotly, getting up to storm around his living room. Noting his avoidance when she returned to the kitchen, she dropped her shoulders sadly. She couldn’t remember him ever looking this defeated. “Hell, Gil, do you even know what you want?” “To be left alone comes to mind,” he answered, not bothering to face her. This wasn’t helping. She was bringing up things he’d rather not think about. “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?” “Forty-two is actually the answer to everything.” “What?” Catherine demanded before giving her head a shake. “Never mind. You know what I’m talking about. Anytime you’re faced with something that makes you uncomfortable, you lock yourself up in this, this…” “Townhouse?” “Mausoleum!” The unexpected reply caused Grissom to turn away from the window. Any earlier anger was gone from her eyes, replaced by friendly exasperation. Scratching his beard, he debated his next move. He did want her help getting around the suspension, but the side trip into personal issues was unwelcome. Deciding he could tolerate a few more minutes of this if she would help him, he grabbed the coffee pot and topped off their mugs. Catherine sized him up, and let out a long sigh as she looked around. “It’s dead. Nothing ever changes in here. You’ve lived here ever since I met you, and you’ve never even redecorated. You’ve never even repainted the damned walls.” “And that’s a sign of a serious character flaw. Interesting analysis,” he said, blinking in confusion. “I wouldn’t recommend writing a book about it, though.” “Gil … Life is about living. That means change.” “I like my house. It’s comfortable.” “Because it doesn’t change.” “Exactly,” he said, not bothering to hide his bafflement. “You don’t get it,” she exhaled. “Okay, let’s try something scientific sounding. Adapt. Living things adapt. They react to the world around them. You don’t. You lock yourself away in here, and you try to ignore everything that’s going on around you. Hell, look at your walls.” Frowning, he did so, hoping her rant would end and they’d get to work-related matters soon. “What about them?” “The only things in here with any color are the butterflies. You put them behind glass, where you can never touch them, or be touched by them.” “I think you’re over-analyzing the situation,” he said with more patience than he felt. “They’re behind glass for a reason.” “Yeah, because they’re dead!” Grissom pulled his head back at the force of her statement. “The only thing of beauty in your life, and you kill it. You put it away where you can look at it, but you never touch it. Where it can never touch you. That’s all you do.” “Can we please change the subject?” he asked quietly. “Sure,” Catherine answered, sensing she’d pushed him too far. Taking a seat at the breakfast bar, she slid the last cookie towards him. She smiled as Grissom took it, but the distracted manner in which he nibbled it convinced her that he didn’t really taste it. She shook her head knowingly. That was always his problem; he never thought about the little things. He was alive, but he never lived. He focused everything on one small part of his life to the exclusion of everything – and everyone – else. That meant he was very good at what he did, but there wasn’t much he could do outside of his job. Especially when it came to people skills. As much as his recent attitude irked her, she owed him. He needed her help, and she was certain he had no idea how badly. “I know you’re upset, but you have to promise me that you won’t cause any more trouble,” she directed, holding up her hand when he started to protest. “I’m serious. Stay away from Burdick, anything to do with this case. Don’t do anything to aggravate the situation.” “I think I can handle a low profile until this blows over.” “Gil, what are you talking about? This isn’t going to blow over.” “Why not?” he asked, equally bewildered and nervous. “Another sexual harassment scandal!” Catherine barked, shaking her head at his perplexed look. “God, you have no idea. Big surprise.” “Then explain it to me. I’m a little lost.” “At his last job, there was a big sexual harassment scandal. A lot of the people that worked under him were involved. Burdick managed to convince the investigators that he didn’t know about it, but the scandal was a big issue when he ran for sheriff.” “None of that involves me,” Grissom said with a scowl. “Yes, it does! Look, you like to think that if you avoid something, it’ll go away, but that doesn’t make it true. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of the human race. What happens with other people affects you, and what you do affects others. Deal with it. This does involve you.” “You can’t honestly believe there’s any truth to this?” he asked in a hurt tone. “Of course not. But what I think doesn’t matter. Burdick barely won the last election because of a scandal. He’ll never survive another one, and he’s ambitious as hell,” she said, her voice and eyes carrying a warning. “Gil, hon, I’m serious. He won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves to save his own career.” Grissom sat in a stunned silence. Earlier, he had worried about what the accusation would do to his reputation, but that had been more of an annoyance than a fear. The people who knew him would know the truth, and his professional reputation was unquestionable. But if he lost his job over this? He’d never completely recover. The charge would resurface every time he had to testify. He’d never get a job with a decent lab. No one would hire him as an expert witness. Universities may not even want him. He’d lose everything. Unable to comprehend the situation, he staggered to his living room in a daze. Grissom sank onto his couch and dropped his head into his hands. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Nothing else explained it. When his hands pulled away, he became aware that Catherine had sat on the coffee table in front of him. She gave him a worried look. “I asked you if you’d done anything.” “What?” “Since being suspended. Did you say anything to Burdick, contact the Kenyons or Myers?” “No. I read,” he said, smiling humorlessly as he pointed to the book at her side. Catherine’s eyes darted from the book to his face and back. Frowning, she tried to figure out what caused his reaction. She knew he was shocked, but how badly? “Are you okay?” “It was more apropos than I realized.” “That you read a book?” “That I read that book,” he said. “Walden by Thoreau. ‘The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ He knew what he was talking about.” “Welcome to Vegas, Gil. If you can’t take care of desperation here, it’s hopeless. I know some clubs,” she quipped, trying to cheer him up. Grissom let out a sigh and waved her away. He recognized her attempt at humor, but it didn’t help. Nor was he in the frame of mind to explain it. “Don’t worry.” “You’re the one that said this won’t blow over,” he pointed out irritably. “No, but that doesn’t mean we’ll let it steamroll you. Think. Did you ever have a run-in with Myers before?” “Not that I remember, but…” “But we deal with thousands of people over the years. You had to, though.” “Why do you say that?” “Myers is good. Her rep is solid. She wouldn’t misconstrue something like this unless she was out to get you.” “Who handled Burdick’s investigation?” Grissom asked suddenly. “In that other scandal you talked about?” Catherine’s eyes opened wide as she followed his train of thought. If Myers cleared him once, but another potential scandal happened after that, she might be out for blood. “I don’t know, but I’ll check. You think Myers is out to get him through you? I’m not sure I buy that. Doesn’t sound like her.” “At this point, there’s nothing that would surprise me,” he said, all his emotional confusion concentrated into vehemence. “I’ll check that out. You stay away from this,” she said, getting up and putting the dishes into his sink. He stood up and headed towards his door. “I think I need some time. This was a lot to process.” “Give me a call if you need anything.” “I will. Catherine,” he called out before she walked out of sight. When she turned to him, Grissom hesitated; he hated getting involved with his employees’ personal lives, but this was necessary. “Sara had nothing to do with this. Remember that.” After a beat, she shrugged. “If you say so.” “I do. And thanks.” Once alone, he locked his door and returned to his couch, closing his eyes as he sank into the leather. Despite Catherine’s optimistic pledge, Grissom placed little faith in it. He couldn’t; at the moment, there was nothing he had faith in. Being a criminalist was his life; it formed the foundation of his world. Or it had. “It can’t be gone.” He’d spoken softly, but the sound carried easily. Catherine’s words came back as he dropped his head. He was alone. If she was right about this, his career was over. What did he have in its place? The room slowly darkened as he sat there, trying to figure out how to salvage something from this mess. Nagging doubts about whether it was worth it began to plague him. He’d sacrificed everything for this life, and in a minute, office politics destroyed it. He was adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions, and he had nothing to anchor himself. Hearing the knock at the door, Grissom turned his head toward it. His initial inclination was to ignore it. He wasn’t up for another round with Catherine, but he knew she wouldn’t go away. Opening it, he stared as Sara gave him a cautious smile. |
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