Help (Grissom/Heather)

C

Catherinesmyidol

Coroner
Set at the end of Pirates of the Third Reich. Feedback is very greatly appreciated. :D

Oh yeah, and I couldn't remember the guy's name that Heather whipped. I put Johann but if it was the other guy, please tell me so I can fix it? :)

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“Let me finish!” Heather Kessler shouted.

“You cannot do this!” Gil Grissom responded in just a slightly softer tone.

“No! Let go! Let….!”

“No!” Gil couldn’t let her do that, he just couldn’t. He knew she’d go to jail if she did anything else and she did not belong in jail.

“Please!” She was moments from tears. Her voice broke as she cried out, wishing he wasn’t stopping her.

Heather struggled to get the whip away from him, desperate to finish the task she had started. But much to her surprise, Gil wouldn’t let go of it. He tightened his grip and began slowly pulling him toward her. She resisted at first, just a natural reflex, but as the seconds passed she allowed herself to get closer to him.

“Stop.” Gil told her. He had to use every ounce of self control he had to force himself not to let her go back to killing the man. He didn’t deserve to live; he had killed her daughter after performing horrible experiments on her. He deserved to be murdered, just as he had Zoe. “Heather,” He said again, hoping to get her attention.

“Please…” Heather tried to pull the whip from his grasp once again but she wasn’t strong enough. The evening’s events coupled with the pain of losing her daughter had drained most of her energy.

“I’m saying stop.”

She inhaled gasping breaths, barely able to breathe at all. As she finally heard his words, really heard them, she realized what he was doing. And shockingly, it was working.

Gil removed the whip from Heather’s grasp, letting it fall to the ground. Not a sound could be heard as he awaited her next move. He expected her to lash out, to run away from him, anything than what she actually did. He hadn’t anticipated she would collapse into his arms, and then start crying. But she did; and he held her while she sobbed.

The Heather had been whipping, Johann Wolfowitz, attempted to get free. The tightly bound leather straps tied to the front of her grill made it impossible for him to go anywhere. Gil ignored his absolute hatred and disgust for the man as he refocused his attention on Heather. She was the one who needed him, not that bastard who had killed her daughter.

“Heather,” Gil whispered in her ear. “We should get you home.”

She didn’t respond verbally, but he felt her nod and heard her sobs come to a halt. With a sigh, the brunette stood up straighter. She kept her eyes fixed upon the ground. Gil saw a single tear slide down her face and off of her chin onto the dirt below them.

Gil gently lifted her head with his finger, looking her directly in the eyes. His heart wrenched upon seeing her true state, but he swallowed the rising emotions, knowing she truly needed him.

He wiped the tears off of her cheeks, taking the dirt and sweat with the gentle sweeping motion of his thumbs. Heather looked up at him gratefully; her green eyes ready to spill more tears at any moment. Gil saw and understood this, so he helped her back to his car.

About halfway to his vehicle, Heather gasped in pain. When Gil asked if she was alright, she nodded immediately, not giving a second thought to the sudden sting of ache.

“Just take small steps,” Gil whispered. He didn’t want to talk any louder, fearing he might upset her if his voice became too loud.

They finally made it to Gil’s Tahoe and he helped her into the passenger seat. She sat there like a statue, as if she were frozen. He watched her carefully as she blinked, looked out the windshield at what she had done, and then back down at her hands which were clasped tightly in her lap.

“Heather.”
The brunette looked up at him, blinking lazily as both exhaustion and something that he wasn’t quite sure of settled in over her. “Yes?” Her weak reply tugged at his heartstrings.

“I need to call a few people, but I also need you to promise me that you are going to stay right there,” Gil calmly explained.

Heather nodded in agreement then looked away from him. She felt tired, incredibly tired and very shocked. Gil wasn’t supposed to have shown up; it wasn’t in the plan. She was supposed to kill Wolfowitz, dump the body in Lake Mead and then return to her dominion. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but that bastard didn’t deserve to live and what he did wasn’t punishable under any laws. If she didn’t get justice for what he had done to her daughter, who would?

“I’ll be right back,” Gil whispered. He closed the car door and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Brass’ number as quickly as he could.

“Brass, it’s Gil. I need you to meet me in Sparks. Something happened and I have a feeling we’re going to need your help.”

TBC
 
Again, Jenna, you did it again!
and GSR makes baby Jesus cry
that's good! he he he :lol:
more soon please
 
You know, even though I am devout GSR, I have been venturing from just that and I like this pairing, G/H. Hey, I myself thought it was gonna be true at the end of Pirates of the Third Reich. Keep it up!
 
Wow, thank you so much for the feedback!! I really appreciate it. Sorry I didn't get this chapter posted earlier, but it's here now so I hope you like it. :)

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As Jim Brass pulled his vehicle down the dirt road Gil had instructed him to, he didn’t believe what he saw. A man, he wasn’t entirely sure who, was bound to the front of a Ford Explorer. He was injured, severely so, but he wasn’t dead; he was still trying to free himself of the straps holding him to the grill of the car. Gil was standing next to his own vehicle, his back pressed against the driver’s side door. He looked up as he saw Brass’ SUV coming down the dirt road, a grim look upon his face.

“What’s going on?” Jim asked as he exited the car, looking both worried and shocked.

“I found Heather’s necklace at this guy’s house.” Gil jerked his thumb in the direction of Wolfowitz. “I had a hunch, followed it, and found her here.”

“Her?” Brass was still confused.

“Heather. She was whipping him when I got here.”

Before either could say anything else, two ambulances pulled up with their sirens blaring. One set of EMTs immediately went to work on Wolfowitz while the others watched in amazement. The two watching their coworkers whispered to each other, trying to piece together what had happened.

“Where is she?” Jim ran his hand over his face. He had seen a lot of things in his time as a detective, but never a mother seeking revenge by whipping her child’s murderer to death.

“In my car. I’ll get her.” Gil started walking toward his vehicle, followed closely by Brass. “Alone,” He glanced back at his friend. Jim nodded and stopped right where he was.

Gil slowly opened the passenger door and whispered her name so she knew who was standing there. The brunette stared out the windshield for a moment longer, and then looked at him. She looked distraught, miserable, and sick. He wanted to just get in the car, drive her home, and take care of her until she felt better. But he knew she’d need to be questioned and processed, making his plan both irresponsible and unprofessional.

“Heather, I need you to come with me. The paramedics need to make sure you’re okay,” Gil explained.

Heather nodded as she got out of the vehicle. She blinked a few times as she looked up at Gil, awaiting the next instruction.

“We’re going right up there,” He pointed to where Brass and the paramedics were standing. Heather looked worried for some reason; Gil carefully took the crook of her elbow in his hand, making sure he wasn’t hurting her, and led her up the dirt road.

They reached the ambulance, Gil still holding onto Heather. The paramedics helped her up into the ambulance and she sat down on the gurney, looking completely dazed. One of the paramedics, the taller of the two, signaled for Gil to join them in the rig. He kneeled in front of the brunette as the paramedic quietly talked to him.

“Is something wrong with her?” The man asked, gathering supplies from the shelves to dress any wounds she may have.

“She lost her daughter a few days ago,” Gil responded in the same soft tone. He took Heather’s hands in his and noticed they were extremely cold. As he pressed them together inside his palms, Heather winced. It was the first real emotion she had shown since Gil had put her in the car.

“Are you hurt?” He whispered.

Heather removed her hands from Gil’s and showed him her right palm. It had a diagonal cut on it, spanning approximately three inches in length.

“She needs this looked at,” Gil informed the paramedic. He left his spot in front of her so the man could bandage the wound.

Outside the ambulance, Brass was watching the first ambulance take Wolfowitz to the hospital. “How is she?” He asked.

“I’m not sure.” Gil answered honestly.

“They said Wolfowitz is pretty bad,” Brass filled the Entomologist in on the situation. He can’t move his legs at all and they’re not sure why.”

The wind howling filled the silence between them as they assessed everything. Brass broke the calm with a sigh, followed by a sentence. “I have follow them. You’ll bring her in when they’re done with her?”

“Sure,” Gil sighed too.

Brass got back in his vehicle, started it and drove away. Gil watched the taillights fade into the night; the paramedic who had been dressing Heather’s wound appeared at the back of the ambulance.

“She’s ready to go now. You’re taking her to the station, right?”

Gil nodded as he walked back to the ambulance. Heather was still sitting on the gurney looking rather upset, which was understandable. “Heather? Come on, honey, let’s get you back in the car.”

She stood up, shakily, and Gil offered his hand to her to help her out of the vehicle. She placed her right hand in his left, not flinching this time as her wound came into contact with his skin. Gil assumed it had something to do with the amount of gauze covering it. They went back to Gil’s car just as slowly as they had when they had been walking to the ambulance.

Gil opened her door and helped her into the car. As they pulled off of the dirt road back onto the asphalt, he discreetly watched her stare out the window. He was willing to help her with whatever she needed; he just hoped she would let him.
 
Thanks for the feedback!! :D By the way, the italic font is what the women are saying. ;)

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Upon reaching the Las Vegas Police Department station, Gil had asked the secretary at the front desk to watch Heather while he took care of something. Once the brunette was seated in the waiting area, Gil set off to find the person he was looking for. His search for her was so distracting that he ran into her; literally.

“Gil! Watch where the hell you’re going!” Catherine Willows shouted at him. She continued walking for just a moment until she realized that something was wrong. “Gil? Something going on?”

Gil nodded solemnly. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, anything. Just tell me what’s wrong,” The blonde replied as she took a step closer to her former boss.

“Heather needs to be processed. I can’t do it because… well, you know why. But please, she knows you, and it’d just be easier if you could.”

Catherine looked confused but agreed. Gil went back to the waiting area to get Heather, so she could get processed and they could get the hell out of there. “Heather,” He softly jolted her from her trance. “Come with me.”

The brunette stood up with a sigh and Gil once again took her again, simply to give the security of knowing he was right beside her. “You remember Catherine.” Gil gestured to the blonde, who smiled at Heather. “She’s going to process and question you. Is that okay?”

Heather nodded slowly. As she and Catherine went into the interrogation room, he realized she hadn’t spoken since they had left the scene of the crime, for lack of better words. He watched intently, reading both of the women’s lips to decipher what was being said.

“Heather, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Catherine’s face was covered in sympathy. “May I please see your hands?”

Gil watched Heather extend her hands for the blonde to examine. He wasn’t sure what Catherine was looking for but he allowed himself to let the thought slide. It wasn’t important; getting Heather back to her house was.

“Is something else wrong?” Catherine inquires as she tape-lifts the brunette’s shirt.

“I feel sick,” Heather replies. She closes her eyes, what Gil takes to be a step to calming whatever was making her feel ill. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”

“I’m finished now. We can go find Gil.” Catherine looks at him as if she can see straight through the one-way mirror. She knew he was there all along. With a worried look, she mouthed, “Get in here now,” to him.

Gil didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed to the door separating himself from Heather, flung it open, and was instantly at her side. “Come on. I’ll take you home now.”

Heather stood up as her words reached her, her face growing paler with each passing minute. Gil locked arms with the brunette and covered her hand with his, a hopeful move to comfort her. He glanced back at Catherine as he said, “Thanks, Cath. I appreciate it.”

The blonde waved her hand to show she had heard him. She strode to the door leading out into the hallway and watched the two of them go, arm in arm.

“Don’t screw it up this time, Gil,” Catherine whispered to herself. She prayed he wouldn’t mess anything up, and also that Heather would give him a second chance. They both deserved a shot at making amends and possibly starting up where they had left off.
 
you are now KEEPING ME GLUED TO THE COMPUTER!
yes Grissom, don't screw it up this time!

keep going ...
 
Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! It's rather short, but my muse ran away and I've yet to find her again. :p

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Heather sat on the third stair of the staircase that led upstairs, her head hung low and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Gil was preparing her a drink, tea of course, and she didn’t have the energy to walk into the kitchen to wait for him.

“How could I have done this? What the hell is wrong with me?” She wondered as tears began to fill her eyes. Clamping her hand over her mouth, the brunette muffled her sobs. They subsided after just a moment and she realized just how thankful she was that Gil had decided to accompany her home.

“Heather? Your tea is ready,” Gil attempted to smile to lighten the mood. It was a fruitless effort; the mood can’t be lightened when one’s daughter has died.

She rose without a word, her heeled boots clicking quietly as the brunette strode into the kitchen to drink her tea. Upon reaching her destination, Heather seated herself on a barstool at the island. She took one sip of her tea and placed it back on the counter. It felt as though she had just swallowed a hundred tacks.

“I think I’m ready to go to sleep,” Heather looked up at Gil.

Gil nodded. He was still extremely worried about her and as they slowly walked up the stairs, he attempted to figure out just how he could help her. They got to the third floor when Gil’s cell phone suddenly rang, making Heather jumped. He calmed her down before answering it; she was, after all, his only priority.

“Hello?” He answered the ringing phone. His arm remained on Heather’s right shoulder to both steady her and keep her from going any further without him.

“It’s Catherine,” The blonde sighed. “Don’t screw this up, Gil.”

“What?” Gil cocked his head to the side, unsure of what his coworker was referring to.

“Don’t mess it up with Heather! You did once. Now you’ve got a second chance.” Catherine was growing impatient with him. For an Entomologist and a very smart man, he could be quite dim. “Just realize that. You’ve got the chance to make things right.”

“Thanks, Cath.”

Gil snapped his phone shut and gestured for Heather to continue up the stairs. She did as he had instructed her to without a word. Inside her room, the brunette removed her black boots and jacket, remaining silent. She searched for her hairbrush and finally found it in the bathroom, where she brushed out her hair in front of the mirror. It was extremely hard to do; the dirt and sand had somehow formed knots in her hair that made it nearly impossible to brush at all. And while this all was going on, Gil was standing uncomfortably in the doorway to her bedroom. Catherine’s words ran through his mind.

“Don’t mess it up this time, Gil.”
 
leave it to Catherine to tell him...
go find your muse because this is great :)
you know I want to know how this is going to turn out :)
 
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