Title: Spirit
Characters: Gil, Team
Rating: PG
Gil hated being drugged. It
was difficult to keep
control of emotions or of
anything for that matter
when he was. Control was a
vital part of his
existence. It had kept him
alive this long and had
established his place in his
field of work. It kept
everyone at a distance so
that they couldn’t hurt or
disappoint him.
That distance was why he was
here alone now. Control
didn’t keep him from hurting
or disappointing himself.
The solitude he normally
craved was blatantly mocking
him in the quiet room. More
than a handful of ‘should
have’s’ filled his
thoughts. He should have
asked Catherine to stay. He
should have told more of his
colleagues… friends about
the surgery. He should have
let someone else be the
strong one for once.
The hospital room was
drowning in an eerie silence
and, for the moment, in his
drug induced, solitary state
he panicked. What if the
surgery had gone wrong?
He’d been told it was
possible. What if his
hearing was completely
gone? What if he could no
longer work?
He couldn’t remember the
last time he’d panicked like
this. It filled inside of
him, growing at a rapid pace
and threatening to overflow
and suffocate him. He felt
slow tears trace lines down
the sides of his face to the
pillow behind him. His
heart pounded in his chest
so hard that he could feel
it throughout his body and
in a frantic gesture; his
fingers clumsily tore at the
bandages and tape over his
ears.
Breathe, you have to
breathe. He reminded
himself.
He made a fist with one hand
and hit it against the side
railing of the hospital
bed. The sound of his fist
against plastic was a
welcome one even if it
sounded hollow like an
echo. It was something.
Only then did he draw a
gasping, needed breath of
air as he tested it a few
more times, his fist
pounding the plastic railing
again and again until he was
satisfied with the vacuous
results.
“Making a fuss, are you?”
The far away voice of a
doctor filled the room and
he narrowed his eyes,
looking up to see his
surgeon.
“Can you hear me?”
Gil nodded, his eyes
narrowing even more as if
that would make the drugged
haze in his mind more clear
and make his hearing more
clear all at the same time.
It didn’t work.
“The stapedectomy went
well. We’re estimating that
your hearing will increase
ninety percent at the
minimum. It’s a very good
percentage for any patient
with Otosclerosis.” As he
spoke, he re-taped the
bandages at Gil’s ears and
pushed Gil’s hands away when
the man immediately
attempted to take them off
again. “Now Mr. Grissom, we
don’t want to restrain you.
Do you have any family we
could call to sit with you?
Any close friends? It will
be several hours before the
drugs wear off.”
Again, Gil felt the
emotional lack of control
and his eyes filled with
tears again. He shook his
head. “No one to call…” He
heard the echoed sound of
his own slurred speech as
the tears escaped to follow
the ones that had come
before them to his pillow.
His spirit felt rumpled and
numb… almost non-existant,
and he knew it was his own
doing. Absentmindedly his
fingers went to the tape
around his ears again.
“I’ll bring a nurse in to
strap your wrists down, Mr.
Grissom. You’ll rest easier
that way.”
“That won’t be necessary.
We’ll watch him.” Catherine
walked into the room, with
Warrick, Nick, and Sara in
tow.
Warrick nudged Gil’s sock
covered foot with one hand.
“Think you could get away
without tellin’ me about
this?”
“Brought greasy
cheeseburgers, fries, and
cokes” Nick held up the
paper bags filled with the
fast food triumphantly then
looked sideways to the
doctor. “For us, not him.”
Then he cast a wink towards
Gil.
“Nice save, Nick…” Sara
pulled a chair up next to
the hospital bed and dug
through her bag for a moment
before pulling out a
crossword puzzle book. “I’m
with Warrick on the you not
telling us about this, just
for clarification. But
we’re here now.”
The warmth that seemed to be
ironing out his rumpled
spirit was almost physical
to Gil as he listened to
each comment as if through a
tunnel. It was tangible
like bugs, books, and greasy
cheeseburgers. A corner of
his lips lifted in a lazy,
half-smile. “Who’s
working?” He asked tiredly.
“Day shift. What, you think
we’re a bunch of slackers?”
Nick asked jokingly. A small
grin on his lips as he sat
on the edge of the bed.
“We can take it from here,
doctor. Thank you.”
Catherine walked out with
the doctor, asking him
questions about the surgery
and how Gil was doing.
“We’re on call, no
worries.” Sara commented,
idly checking her pager at
her hip in the progress.
“Work’s not important right
now.” Warrick sat on the
other side of the bed and
pointed to the crossword
book Sara held. “Right now
you oughtta be worried about
how we’re all gonna show you
up on crossword puzzles.”
“But remember? We said we’d
go easy on him since he’s in
the hospital and not at the
top of his game.” Nick
pulled a french fry out of
the bag and ate it.
“I say we beat him now,
while he’s half out of it
since it’s the only time
we’ll ever have the
chance.” Warrick shot
back. “Now divvy up the
food.”
Gil watched the banter
quietly, and even offered a
lazy smile a few times. His
eyes drifted peaceably
closed as the drugs drew him
back into a relaxed sleep.
For now, he put his faith
and his trust not in his
co-workers, but in his
friends. Amusingly, his
last thought that raced
through his mind was a stark
contrast to the panicked
more serious ones only
moments before.
They’ll think I fell asleep
to avoid being beat at
crosswords… I know this.
