fandomhighdorms | Outside Room 146

Grissom is not feeling very well, and has decided to stay in the dorms for the afternoon, a bit angry at himself that he isn't holding his open labs as usual. He's ruminating on how he has let his students down when he hears Sara's voice through the door. Immediately, he gets up and swings the door open.

His gaze is curious and concerned. "Sara? What's happened? Are you okay?"

Did you hear about Kitty Pryde? *Her tone is dark--then her train of thought is completely derailed.*

What's wrong? And don't you dare tell me nothing. *She is not kidding.*

He ignores her questions about himself for the moment, "Kitty Pryde? A student, correct? No, what..."

Apparently she was murdered in town.

*This train of thought is still going strong.*

Grissom, what's wrong? It isn't like you to be consistently ill.

Duck and weave, duck and weave. "Wait, a student was murdered? My God. Where, when? Are we going to have a faculty meeting about this? When will the student body be notified? Do they have anyone in custody, or any suspects?"

I found out in the Lounge today, I don't know what kind of investigation will be conducted, but I told Dean Bristow you and I could lend assistance if necessary. That was what I came to tell you.

*Her tone is not amused--for a different reason.*

I'm not going to politely ask again, Grissom. What the fuck is going on with you?

"Sara, I am going to be fine. I'm not, however, indestructible, no matter what I'd like to believe. Please, just... "

He waves his hand through the air in a gesture for her to stop the conversation.

"Of course, I would be more than willing to help. When will you hear back from the Dean?"

I'm not sure, but I've no doubt it will be soon. Just one student dying on our watch is too much.

*Briefly mollified, she begins wandering around his apartment, stopping by his desk.* Nice tarantula--I don't recognize him. Her. It.

*She's about to tease him when her gaze falls on a stack of papers. The blood drains from her face.*

He looks vaguely amused, if not a little uncomfortable, as she stands behind his desk looking at his spider. The initial shock of Sara's obviously upset tone, and the subsequent news of Kitty Pryde's murder, had temporarily distracted him from remembering what he had currently laid out on the desk.

Two seconds before she finds the papers, he recalls and winces, realizing it is too late to distract her attention from them. He can see the exact second she realizes what they are, and his shoulders slump in defeat.

At a loss, he just murmurs her name.

*She looks at him, completely lost.*

Grissom...why?

"I should have done it a long time ago. I managed to avoid it until now. I didn't want you to..."

He takes his glasses off and rubs his neck. "I wasn't lying. I should be fine."

It's too late for me to not be worrying about you. That's what friends do, the last time I checked.

*Her tone is still worried.* What's wrong?

He sighs, trying not to make her nervous by smiling, but her concern touches him.

"Maybe we should sit down?" He gestures to his living room area, and the same old, crappy leather couch he dragged from Vegas.

*She sits, looking at him expectantly.*

"It isn't a virus. Dr. Wilson at the Clinic took some samples, and then I went in for a biopsy last week..."

He pauses. He had thought he might be able to avoid this moment, as foolish as that may have been, maybe because he wanted to so desperately. It feels like a final nail in a coffin, even if his disease should not be fatal.

"It's a low-grade MALT lymphoma of the stomach. I..."

He stops, unable to say anything further, or know what he should say, crossing his hands in his lap as he stares down at them.

Cancer. He has cancer. *For some reason, the knowledge of what it truly is doesn't frighten her. It's difficult to fight unknown enemies after all.*

*He might not know what to do with his hands, but she does. She lays hers on top of his.*

He turns his palms up and interlocks their fingers, keeping his gaze on them as his thumb tentatively rubs the back of her left hand. They sit for silence for a moment, and he takes a heavy breath.

"I'll be going in for surgery, and then six months of chemo. So, no more making fun of the hat, okay?" He tries to lighten up the mood slightly, unwilling to cause her any more pain than he has in the past if he can try.

That hat can stay as far as I am concerned. *Squeezing his hand, her voice hitching at one point.*

Why did you want to go through this alone?

Oh, he could write a novel. Because he doesn't know how to do it any other way, because he doesn't want to drag her into the suffering of a damaged, old man, because part of him still doesn't understand that she cares, because he's ashamed and scared. But the real answer is, he doesn't.

He finally turns and looks into her eyes, seeking an answer in them.

"It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

Well, it's not. *Such a brilliant retort, but cut her some slack--she is still processing.*

I will be there for you, if you will let me. *Said quietly, not letting their hands go.*

[OOC: We try. Sometimes they cooperate. :D]

(OOC- When you say locked, do you mean that only the two of you can post, or that no one else can see? I'm trying to recap for Radio. Thanks)

[OOC: Only we can post and see. I should have been clearer.]

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