BUIHTD at a hospital

"He broke up with me," he said quietly, "He -"

He tried to say more, but a sudden constraint in his throat prevented him. He took a deep breath but to no avail; his throat hurt, and rather than subside, the pain spread to his chest in a searing wave that caught him unawares.

As a scientist, he was familiar with physical pain in all its forms –and he had the scars to prove it- but this was different, and he recognized it for what it was: a manifestation of grief.

He couldn't understand it; it wasn't as if he'd been in denial about the break-up; he and Greg were through and he'd known it for weeks. It was as if saying the words out loud –'he broke up with me'- had made it more real somehow. Suddenly, the enormity of the fact had struck him: Greg was really out of his life.

"Gil?"

He'd momentarily forgotten her. Astrid was looking at him, her eyes filled with concern. She tentatively reached for him but stopped short, just as if she were afraid of touching him.

"Are you all right?" she asked instead.

He nodded.

"I'm fine," he said. Scaring her was the last thing he wanted to do, yet there he was, acting as if he were having a heart attack. "I think I'm having a delayed reaction to the break-up," he said wearily.

"Then it wasn't you who…" She let the word trail off. "I don't understand it," she said, sincerely puzzled. "Greg seemed so sad; so disappointed. We all thought -"

"It wasn't me," Gil said quietly. But his innate sense of fair play intervened. "It was my fault," he said. "I don't think I gave him much of a choice."

"What happened?" she asked.

Grissom winced. He didn't expect her to ask. People rarely questioned him when it came to personal matters.

Taken by surprise, he found himself looking for an answer.

"I thought you loved him," she said.

"I did," he said quietly. 'I do,' he could have said but didn't. Those glorious weeks they'd spent together; those lazy mornings they'd spent in bed, making love or simply talking, and all the times they'd shared… They didn't matter. He'd been happy, yet even then he knew it would not last.

"I guess I didn't have any faith," he said, almost to himself. He raised his gaze after a moment. "I'd never loved anyone," he said. "I didn't really know what to do."

"All you had to do was love him. No," she amended, almost immediately. "No, it isn't that simple, is it? You did love Greg - I could see that. And he loved you."

Gil gulped. It hurt, hearing the words out aloud.

She was silent for a moment, then she looked up.

"Do you remember our Christmas party?"

Grissom frowned at the unexpected question. Greg's family had flown from all over the country to Las Vegas in the middle of December, ostensibly to celebrate Christmas, but also to celebrate Papa Olaf 85th birthday, still two months away.

Greg's aunts, uncles and cousins -handsome and lanky; brown-eyed on the Hodjems' side and blue-eyed on the Linstroms' side -dozens of them, reunited under one roof for a big, noisy party…

How could he forget?

"I remember," he said.

"Greg helped us plan the party," she confided; "That had never happened before. And he asked us to welcome you into the family -another first."

Grissom looked down. He did not want to hear this.

She didn't notice his discomfort.

"He wanted everything to be perfect," she mused, "He was so cheerful…" She was lost in thought for a moment. At last, she glanced at him, "I'm afraid we were a tad overenthusiastic in our welcome, Gil."

Grissom smiled a little. Overenthusiastic was right. Greg's aunts had hugged him as if he were some lost member of their family.

Never again would he think of Norwegians as icy or reserved. It was heart-warming –up to a point. Deep down –and this was something he never mentioned to Greg- he felt there was something forced about it.

He didn't say anything because, really, what did he know about family reunions? He and his mother barely saw each other in the years previous to her death, and as for family reunions… They never had one.

He was wholly unprepared for the reception he got from Greg's people.

"Would you believe we had the best intentions?" she said, "We were only trying to make you feel welcome."

"I knew that," Gil said gently. "I'm sorry if I seemed -"

"Panic-stricken?" she smiled. "Actually, you were quite charming, once the surprise wore off." She paused for a moment, as if she were choosing her next words with great care. "It wasn't until we met that you seemed to freeze."

Grissom winced.

He didn't recall being so... Transparent.

"You looked at me as if I reminded you of someone," Astrid said slowly. "And later, when I hugged you, I had the distinctive impression that you couldn't wait to get away from me."

Grissom was serious now. She was right. He'd simply stood there, arms hanging by his sides, useless, while she hugged him.

"I was hoping you'd say something," she said good-naturedly. "But you didn't. And then you avoided me the rest of the night."

Gil shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to -"

"To be so obvious?" she finished for him. She didn't seem resentful. She was merely stating facts. But her smile faded after a moment. "A month later, Greg told me you weren't seeing each other anymore. Since then, I've been wondering if the party had something to do with it. If I had something to do with it."

"No," he said kindly. "You didn't. It was… It was my fault. I used to be so bewildered by the intricacies of the relationship," he mused. "I just didn't -" he paused. "I don't have the patience to deal with them."

"I don't believe you," she said softly. She was looking closely at him now. "There must be something else bothering you. I wish you'd tell me," she added wistfully. "If you did, then maybe I could do something. I could talk to Greg, or -"

She stopped abruptly, as she'd suddenly realized what she was saying. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said. "I ask too many questions, don't I?"

"It's all right," he muttered.

"I wish I were like Nana Olaf," she sighed. "She would have immediately known what the matter was. She was very perceptive; she instinctively knew what people around her were thinking… or grieving for. I, on the other hand, need things to be spelled out clearly to understand."

Grissom looked at her with interest. In just a few words she had revealed what being Olaf Hodjem's second wife was like. She'd lived under the shadow of a revered, almost mythical figure all these years…

It couldn't have been easy for her.

He felt sorry.

"You are perceptive," he said kindly. "You noticed I was uncomfortable, the night we met. I don't think anyone else knew."

She blinked.

"Greg was right," she said after a moment. "You do know what to say to make people feel better about themselves." She smiled. "He said it was one of your best traits."

Grissom smiled a little at this.

He looked down.

"I didn't say it to make you feel better," he said. "You were right all along; you did remind me of someone."

TBC