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As the sunlight faded from the desert sky, Las Vegas came to life,
showing its true self in the flash and hum of neon that contrasted
with the shadows that lurked just beyond.
In the crime lab meeting room, Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown chatted
idly, waiting for their workday to begin. "Where is everybody?"
Warrick asked.
"Maybe we got the night off and nobody told us," Nick said hopefully.
"Sorry, Nick," Gil Grissom said as he walked in. "Catherine called,
she's going to be a little late. She had to drop Lindsey off at a
slumber party."
"What about Sara?"
"I don't know. She should have been here by now."
Warrick snorted. "Surprised she still isn't here from yesterday, the
way she hangs around."
Grissom was on his cell phone. "Sara, you're late," he said curtly to
her answering machine.
As Gil dialed Sara's pager, Warrick whispered to Nick, "That's what
you want. A supervisor with such great people skills." Nick grinned.
Still on the phone, Gil's expression changed from mild annoyance to
something else. "She's not answering her cell, either."
"That's not like Sara," Nick ventured.
"Catherine, where are you? Okay. Sara's not here, and I can't reach
her. Go by her place and bring her in." He hung up and turned to the
other two men. "What about your cases?"
Warrick and Nick were reporting on the minutia of court dates, chain
of custody, and the lack of adequate funding when the phone rang.
"Grissom." There was a silence and then he whispered, "Oh my God. I'll
be right there."
"What?" Warrick asked.
"Catherine... found Sara. Someone broke in. She's in an ambulance."
Nick jumped up. "We're going to the hospital with you."
"No, you're not." The reply was immediate.
"What?"
"I need you two to go over to Sara's apartment and gather the
evidence. I don't trust anyone else, and I don't want anything missed.
Get there before the uniforms do."
"We're gone," Warrick said.
At the hospital, a moderately harried doctor briefed Catherine and
Grissom on Sara's injuries. "Concussion, maybe some cracked ribs, cuts
and scrapes. And, ah, she's had intercourse very recently." At
Catherine's horrified look, the doctor hurriedly added, "Doesn't seem
to have been forced. I'm guessing it was consensual."
Catherine turned to look at Grissom, to see what his reaction to this
news was. He hadn't taken his gaze off Sara, he hadn't moved a muscle.
There was no discernible expression on his face, but his eyes were
full of pain and his voice shook a bit as he said, quietly and simply,
"It was."
"Okay, " the doctor nodded, turning away.
Catherine stared for a few seconds, rearranging her thoughts, seeing
pieces click into place. She was startled but not surprised. Under
other circumstances, she would even have been pleased. But not right
now.
"I will kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands," Gil said, very
steadily and matter-of-factly. He was still looking at Sara, but the
expression in his eyes was absolutely calm. It was not a promise, a
threat, or an exaggeration. It was a simple truth.
Feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand up, Catherine took a
deep, careful breath and said, "Hey, Grissom -- you're scaring me." He
finally glanced at her. "What happened?" she asked gently.
"I don't know." His look went back to Sara. "She must have fallen
back to sleep. She said she was going to get up in a minute and she'd
be right in to work. She'd be right behind me..."
Catherine took him aside and they both sat down. Fumbling for words,
she asked, "So, how long? I mean, how long have you and Sara...?"
"Two months and eight days," he replied, and the typical precision
almost made Catherine smile.
"And everything was fine when you left?"
"Yeah."
Catherine touched his arm lightly. "We'll find whoever did this. You
know we will."
Sara's apartment was dark as Nick and Warrick entered, the only light
coming from a small lamp in the living room. Nick took a cursory look
around before motioning to Warrick to turn on the lights. The main
area was cluttered; books, junk mail, and water bottles littered the
countertop of the small kitchen.
"Funny. I always pictured Sara as a neat freak," Nick remarked,
stepping over a small stack of phone books on the floor.
"When is she home?" Warrick countered. "Check out her police scanner,
though. Girl's wired." Her desk was the antithesis of the rest of the
apartment. High-end computer equipment was stacked neatly on the
wooden surface.
"That's some setup."
"She is a tech specialist," Warrick reminded him, already heading to
the bedroom off the narrow hallway.
Sara's bedroom was small, but comfortable. A queen bed rested under
the window and furniture was sparse. That wasn't surprising to either
investigator. For as little time as Sara slept it was novel to see
that their colleague had a bed. They didn't ponder too long, however.
It was a crime scene and it was obvious a crime had been committed. A
lamp lay broken at the foot of a white dresser. Books were scattered
everywhere. Pillows and bedding had fallen off the bed. A smudge of
blood was visible on the headboard.
Nick pushed down a sudden surge of anger and started to talk out what
had occurred. "Assuming that blood is Sara's, I would say the perp
surprised her. Blood's on the headboard which indicates she wasn't
standing before he entered the room." He walked closer to the table,
then gestured towards the lamp. "I'd say she woke up right as the guy
made his move. Judging by the location of that blood...makes me think
she whacked her head pretty hard. It's probably what led to her
concussion."
"How'd the rest of this happen, then?" Warrick asked, surveying the
rest of the damage.
"She probably didn't go down right away. Sara's tough. I'm thinking
she was able to fight him off for a round. If he threw her into that
dresser hard enough the pain could have done the rest of the job. Not
before she got her licks in, though. He didn't finish the job."
"Or did he?" Warrick had moved to the bed, his attention on a
discoloration on the sheets.
"Jesus." Nick breathed, looking stricken.
"Sara's not the one night stand type and if she had a boyfriend I
think we'd know about it."
Nick rubbed his eyes. "Hey, can you collect the samples? I'll take a
look in there."
Warrick nodded his consent and returned to the disturbing task ahead
of him. Nick stepped into the bathroom. It was tidy and there was no
sign of a struggle or anything to indicate a crime had occurred.
Fluffy blue towels were stacked neatly on the back of the toilet, the
shower curtain still hung from all its rings. Two toothbrushes rested
in their...
"Warrick!"
"What?" he called back, depositing the newly gathered samples in the
case. He moved toward the other room, where Nick stood wearing a tense
smile.
"I think Sara had a visitor."
"We knew that, man." Warrick looked exasperated, this case already
wearing him down.
"No. I mean an invited guest. A male. I found a men's razor on her
sink and there are two toothbrushes in the holder."
"Could be good news. Might not. Nothing to say an 'invited guest'
didn't attack her."
Nick rolled his eyes. "No, but toiletries imply that he was here for
the night. Might rule out rape. If we can discount that I'd feel a
whole lot better about this."
"Yeah." Warrick agreed. "Let's get some prints and get this stuff back
to the lab. It's a good start."
They worked for nearly an hour, dusting, bagging, and photographing
anything that
might be evidence. Two uniformed officers came in. The younger one
said, "Whoa. How'd the nerd squad get here so fast?"
Nick stepped forwards angrily and Warrick put a hand on his chest to
restrain him, speaking quickly, "We got the call. She's one of ours,
and another one found her."
"You want to back off and not contaminate the scene?" Nick asked
through gritted teeth.
The older cop regarded him, then nodded. "One of your own. I got it. B
and E and assault? No robbery?"
"No, and the suspect is long gone," Warrick added.
The cop sighed. "Yeah, we'll leave you to it. Nothing much for us
here."
After another hour, Nick said, "I pulled two sets of complete prints
off the nightstand and several distinct partials from the bathroom.
Shower curtain and sink," he added, anticipating Warrick's next
question.
"All right. Let's roll. The sooner we get this processed the better
I'll feel."
Nick nodded his agreement and followed him out the front door. He
paused before he pulled the door shut behind him, looking back at
Sara's apartment solemnly. As competitive as things could get between
the two of them, he genuinely cared for his friend. He closed his eyes
in a silent promise to make this case their first and only priority.
Catherine had left the hospital for the lab, to begin work on the
case. Grissom stayed at Sara's bedside. He held her left hand in his,
staring at her upturned fingers. He'd rejected the outward trappings
of religion long ago, but he was praying for her to wake up soon. The
head injury bothered him most; he couldn't imagine Sara with any
damage to that quicksilver mind of hers.
Sara slowly woke up and watched him staring. "Are you analyzing my
prints?" she croaked out.
.
He was overwhelmingly relieved to see her awake. He tightened his grip
on her hand and started to speak...Sara just gave a weak smile and
closed her eyes, her hand still in his.
Grissom just smiled and settled down to wait.
Catherine sat in Grissom's office, eyes closed, thinking for the
millionth time that the waiting was the worst part.
"Hey," came his voice from the door of the office.
"Hey!" Catherine said. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same."
A bit guiltily, Cat jumped up from his desk chair. "I wasn't trying
anything, I didn't mean anything, but this is the only private space
in the building and I thought a little discretion would be a good idea
right about now." He nodded and sat down heavily. "Why aren't you
still at the hospital?"
"They threw me out." His voice held an edge of sadness. "They said I
wasn't family."
"Oh, damn," Cat said, also upset. "But you shouldn't be here." As he
started to protest, she said firmly, "You're way too involved. Nicky
and Warrick and I are on top of this, no other priorites. And frankly,
Grissom, you look like shit. Go home and get some rest. You won't do
any good to anybody right now. I'll call the second we get anything.
GO."
He nodded wearily and moved zombie-like out of the building.
Gil opened his door and did feel better. The quiet and dark were a
welcome change from the constant noise and flickering fluorescents of
the hospital. Just what I need, he thought, feeling the pain in his
head pulsating in perfect rhythm with his heartbeat. He hadn't noticed
the migraine coming on till now, but it had caught up to him. Sighing,
he took the medication and went into the bedroom to lie down. But the
minute he hit the bed, he knew he couldn't get any rest there.
The sheets smelled like Sara.
He was painfully reminded of how it had felt to wake up with her in
his arms that afternoon. And helplessly reminded of the first time
she'd been in this bed...
The knock at the door surprised him; the visitor even more so. "Sara?"
"Hi. I, uh, need to talk to you."
"About the case?"
"Uh, no." She wasn't meeting his eyes, and that was odd coming from
the usually straight-forward Sara. "About, uh... us. You and me."
Taking a deep breath, she plowed on in a rush. "This... thing we have
going between us, this little dance we've been doing. You're okay with
ambiguity, but I'm not. I need to know if it's leading anywhere, I
need to know if anything's going to happen, I need..." and with an
exasperated sigh, she kissed him. Not a gentle kiss, but one full of
longing and passion.
He was taken by surprise, but not so surprised that he didn't return
the kiss, at least at first. When he finally broke it off some time
later, he couldn't speak. His thoughts were moving too fast. He wanted
to tell her all the reasons it would be a bad idea, starting with the
fact that he was her supervisor and... then he looked into her eyes,
almost level with his.
Her eyes were full of hope, and fear, and need, and want... and love.
Sara's whole soul was in her eyes at that moment.
It was the longest moment in the world, just like that last moment
when a rollercoaster reaches the crest of the first hill and remains
poised for a timeless instant between states.
And with the same feeling in the pit of his stomach, he wrapped his
arms around her and pulled her to him fiercely.
It was quick and furious, no time for finesse as everything they had
held back for so long broke through. It seemed only a matter of
seconds before they were down the hall and in bed. He reveled in the
feel of Sara's lithe muscles, so alive under his lips and hands, and
the heat of her skin as she arched against him, crying out in release.
Far away, the part of his brain that could still observe was
unsurprised that she was so vocal.
Then she reached for him again, and the time for logic was gone. They
both gasped as he entered her, and he passed beyond rational thought,
swept up in pure sensation. Utterly lost in Sara.
They clung together, breathing hard. She touched a gentle hand to his
throat and said teasingly, "Your pulse is a lot faster than seventy.
You're not angry, are you?"
He laughed aloud and hugged her. "Not even close."
Neither of them spoke for a time. Sara traced a finger along his jaw
and down his chest. Very seriously, she said, "As scientists, we know
that experiments have to be repeatable."
His expression was just as solemn, save for the mischief in his blue
eyes as he ran a hand along the curve of her back. "Yeah. You can't
have too much data."
She grinned. "State your source."
"Me," he said, kissing her again.
This time, they were slow and careful, methodically exploring and
investigating each other, finding the reactions that followed each
action, and it was even better, much sweeter.
Eventually, he murmured, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For... not taking no for an answer. Ever." He brushed a lock of hair
off her face. "I love you, Sara."
She looked stunned at first, studying his expression. He hadn't said
it lightly; he had said it because it was true. He loved her agile
mind, her passion for justice, the way she anticipated his thinking,
and, yes, he loved the feel of her.
Sara read all this and quietly said, "I love you, too, Gil."
Two months and eight days. The most terrifying, mystifying, and
wonderful two months and eight days of his life.
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