Grissom�s mind was consumed by Catherine�s comments as he raced to Sara�s apartment. Sara and Catherine had never been more than cordial colleagues. Their personalities were too disparate to be anything else. If Catherine was this worried about Sara, it had to be serious.
Tires squealed on the pavement as a nearby semi-truck�s brakes were applied with force. Grissom was dragged back to reality by the frightening sound; instinct took over and he applied his own brakes.
�You asshole! That�s a stop sign! Are you trying to get us both killed?� The truck driver had exited his vehicle and was heading toward the Denali. Grissom took a deep breath, opened his own door and stepped out.
Raising his hands in surrender, he said with some urgency, �I�m sorry. My�my wife is ill and I�m on my way home to her. I�m pretty upset, and I obviously didn�t pay attention to the stop sign. And I pass it every day. You�re absolutely right; I could have gotten us both killed.�
The trucker stood face to face with Grissom. His grizzled countenance began to soften as he looked into Grissom�s eyes. Those eyes reflected his distraught demeanor. With great control, the trucker said, �Wouldn�t do your wife any good if you were dead, would it? If she�s that ill, she doesn�t need to go to no hospital to see you. Take it easy the rest of the way home, will ya�?�
With unabashed relief, Grissom responded, �Absolutely. Thank you for your understanding.�
Yelling some colorful expletives to the honking car maneuvering around them, the trucker headed back for his truck, smacking the trunk of the offending vehicle with his open palm as it passed. Grissom closed the Denali�s door and slowly accelerated, heading toward Sara�s apartment at a more sedate pace.
He would be no good to Sara dead. He needed to focus on his driving. But the urgency in Catherine�s voice echoed in his head.
What could possibly be wrong with Sara? Her illness had worried him from the beginning. Sara insisted that it was just the flu. He monitored her temperature, which seemed normal. He had purchased cases of 7-Up and crackers and made gallons of vegetable broth in hopes she would be able to keep something in her stomach.
But it wasn�t just the nausea and lack of appetite that had him concerned. It was the way it seemed to come and go. Sara could be heaving what little she had in her stomach one minute and demanding a peanut butter sandwich the next. When he had insisted that she go to the doctor, she logically pointed out that the symptoms would probably be absent by the time she got there.
And she seemed tired all the time. When in the lab, she would take the opportunity to sit whenever it presented itself. She had even been seen moving chairs from other areas of the lab to facilitate that opportunity. She took regular breaks, a novelty which was commented upon by more than one person. When shift was over, she went straight home to bed.
There were also her mood swings. They were driving him crazy. Three days ago, she had been symptom-free for thirty-six hours. They had come home from work, grateful for the opportunity of a good nights sleep, uninterrupted by nausea. But when he followed her into the bedroom, she declared she needed space. She didn�t want him there.
He went home, hurt and upset, wondering if this was the beginning of the end of their relationship. An hour later, as he lay sleepless in bed, trying to figure out if he had done something wrong, he heard the key in the lock. Moments later, she crawled into bed with him, crying that she loved him so much and didn�t ever want to be away from him. Perplexed yet relieved, he held her until she cried herself to sleep. She woke up vomiting again.
Dealing with the emotional mood fluctuations of someone close to him was new to Grissom. He was not equipped to deal with it. He tested the waters before he said or did anything when dealing with her. He was afraid he had become distant. But on the other hand, he had no indication that she had even noticed. Considering her own changed, inward behavior, it was likely she hadn�t. But this was not healthy for their relationship, which had always been open and comfortable. Sara�s current illness threatened that comfort. Lately, he found he was reluctant to go home.
But today, he couldn�t get home fast enough. Grissom didn�t care how temperamental Sara was, as long as she was alright physically.
Was there an underlying emotional issue? He told her he loved her all the time and demonstrated it any way he could. He had not broached the subject of marriage again. But she knew how he felt. Sara could not have misgivings about his love for her. And of all the things in this world of which he was certain, he was most certain that Sara loved him as well. The look in her eyes whenever she glanced at him was proof of that. He was confident his eyes reflected the same. No, their love for each other was not in doubt.
Perhaps Sara�s tragic childhood had planted the seeds of a mental disorder. Grissom was more familiar with biology. Psychological disorders were not in his realm. But if Sara�s problem was psychological, he would get her the help she needed and give her all of his support.
What if she had some fatal physical malady? Cancer or a blood disorder, perhaps. Since Catherine had deduced the problem, perhaps it was a problem specific to women, something of which he would have no clue. Grissom�s mind filled with visions of a hospitalized Sara, hooked up to a multitude of tubes, he holding her hand at her bedside. The visualization took his breath away. If he lost Sara, Grissom rationally knew he would go on living. But with her would go all desire to live.
With the thought of losing her raging through his brain, Grissom�s sense of urgency returned and he abandoned caution once again. His foot pressure increased on the accelerator and his driving became more aggressive. He darted between cars, precariously passing large trucks as well as family sedans. When an irate driver honked at him, he gave them an uncustomary, rude finger gesture. In his agitated mind, the risk seemed worth the reward; he was within a block of Sara�s apartment.
The tires of the Denali slammed into the parking island as Grissom squealed into the parking space, applying the brakes a bit too late. Grabbing his briefcase, he jumped from the car and bounded up the stairs to Sara�s apartment. He found the right key on his key fob and paused to take a deep breath. It would do Sara no good to see him panicked. She needed whatever strength he could give her.
Grissom unlocked and slowly opened the door. Sara sat on the sofa in a deceptive state of calm. Her eyes, red from crying, turned to look at him. Used tissues were scattered about her on the floor and the sofa. Placing his briefcase on the floor and his keys on the table, Grissom quietly walked to the sofa, sat down next to Sara and took her hand in his. Sara looked down at their joined hands.
�Whatever it is, we�ll get through this together. I�ll take you to the doctor, the hospital, a different country if we have to. But we will get through this.�
Sara remained silent, staring at the tangle of digits. Grissom took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. �Sara, what�s wrong with you?� Still nothing. Sara continued to sit silently and simply stared at their hands. �Honey, what can be so bad that you can�t tell me?�
Sara slowly raised her eyes to look at Grissom. Her lips quivered as she tried to maintain her composure. It was obviously slipping and Grissom gripped her hands tighter, nodding his head in encouragement.
Almost too low to hear, she finally whispered, �I�m pregnant.�