Fandom:
CSI
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: GSR
Summary: Another
serial killer strikes Las Vegas--but this one has a twist.
Disclaimer: Most of the characters and situations in this story belong
to Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do
not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any
way, and this story is not for profit. All others belong to me, and if
you want to borrow them, you have to ask me first. Any
errors are mine, all mine,
no you can't have any.
Spoilers: through "Bull"
Note: this story includes the non-graphic deaths of children.
Cincoflex. Laura27md. Couldn't do this without them.
*********
The sun was merciless, but the only
concession Sara had made was a lot of sunscreen and Grissom’s
straw hat. She hacked at the ground with a trowel, dripping with
sweat and streaked with dirt, concentrating fiercely on the garden she
had in her head. Las Vegas’ climate was not naturally
conducive to vegetables, but with enough watering...
It had been two days since Sara had made her plea to Dr. Reyes and Ecklie, and she had heard nothing more...officially.
Unofficially, Ronnie had reported that the CSIs assigned to
Grissom’s case were running Hannah West’s financials.
It wasn’t much, but if they found anything of interest, it might
open the door to a warrant or at least an interview.
Not that Sara placed much hope in the latter; Hannah was an expert at twisting people’s words.
Sara gradually softened the dry soil. The garden was an excuse at
this point--a distraction. It had been on her list of things to
do someday, maybe, and Grissom had talked about renting a gas-powered
tiller to start the bed when she got that far. But he
wasn’t there, and the house was spotless, and Sara knew she had
to find something to do or go mad.
Or go hunt Hannah down herself, which was not a good idea at all, satisfying as it might be.
She’d gone in to see Grissom each day; but they were allowed only
a few minutes of guarded conversation. He seemed cheerful to her
worried eyes; a bit tired, but less stressed than Sara expected.
In his place, she would have been climbing the walls, through sheer
frustration if nothing else. Her one consolation was that he
reported that every law enforcement officer was treating him with the
utmost respect.
I wonder what, exactly, Jim said to them.
His bruises were healing, at least.
Sara swiped at the sweat trickling down her face, knowing that she was
leaving a muddy streak and not caring. There was no one to
see. Digging the trowel deep into the soil, she kept going,
hoping drearily that the heat and effort might exhaust her enough to
sleep for more than a few hours. Between the tension and her
worry over Grissom--not to mention an empty bed--she was getting barely
enough sleep to function. Fresh nightmares--smothered babies,
Grissom strangled in his cell--catapulted her from unconsciousness with
exhausting regularity.
She had cleared about half her planned space when her cellphone buzzed
in the dry grass an arm’s length away. Sara snatched it up
and flipped it open with one motion, not bothering to glance at the
caller ID. “Sidle.”
“We got a break.” Ronnie’s voice was breathless, and strained with the effort of keeping it low.
Sara tossed aside her trowel, heat and sweat suddenly forgotten. “What is it?”
“Remember that last body? Out on the edge of
town?” The question was rhetorical, and Sara made an
assenting noise to move Ronnie along. The rookie’s indrawn
breath hissed in her ear. “Some new evidence just turned
up.”
Starved hope began to well up. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Ronnie’s voice dropped even further,
and Sara surmised that she was calling from either a scene or the
lab. “A couple of scientists saw the news about the latest
murder and brought in some video footage. They’re studying
coyote populations in urban areas, and they were using night-vision
cameras right near where the last body was placed.”
Sara felt her eyes widen. “They caught something?”
“Oh yeah.” There was excitement beneath
Ronnie’s hushed tone. “They’re motion-sensitive
cameras--infra-red, not flash. Anyway, they got a pretty good
shot of someone carrying the body, and it’s way too short to be
Grissom.”
“Does Vartann know?” Sara kept her voice even with an effort--yelling with impatience would not help.
“He’s on his way in. There’s no positive I.D., but it definitely excludes Dr. Grissom.”
Every muscle in Sara’s body tightened, as if all her wires were
being pulled taut. “What did Ecklie say?”
Ronnie’s soft breath stood in for a laugh. “He gave
one of those big sighs of his and said ‘It figures,’ and
then said he was going to go call the D.A.”
Good for you, Conrad.
Sara was familiar with Ecklie’s self-congratulatory ways, and at
the moment she would let him praise himself all day long if it got
Grissom out of that jail cell. “Good. Maybe he and
Vartann can convince her to drop the charges.”
“I hope so.” Ronnie sighed. “Look, Sara,
I have to go, I’m supposed to be processing the new Baby
Doe’s clothes.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Sara said, remembering her manners
belatedly. Her mind was racing, yearning towards Grissom.
“We’d be totally screwed without you.”
She could almost hear the rookie’s blush. “Well, I’m glad I can help. Ooops, talktoyoulaterbye!”
The beep of disconnection followed almost immediately, and Sara figured
that Ronnie had seen someone coming. She closed the phone and
picked up her bottle of water, chugging most of it in a few big gulps
before climbing to her feet. Her knees were stiff with the long
kneeling, but Sara barely noticed. I have to wait until someone legit calls me. But I can get ready.
Her shower was thorough but fast, and her phone sat on the edge of the
sink so she could hear it if it rang. But it refused to do so.
And refused.
And refused.
After two hours, Sara thought she might go completely insane. Noisily, probably. I wonder if the neighbors would call the cops if I started screaming?
She knew it would take time for information to be relayed, for
decisions to be made; even if Ecklie and Vartann between them talked
the D.A. into reviewing Grissom’s case, it could be hours yet
before anything was done. For all I know, they might not even deal with it until tomorrow.
She halted in her pacing to glance nervously at the lowering sun. If it got too late, and the courts closed...
The sudden ring of the phone made her start--not her cell, but the
house line. Sara snatched it up, then forced herself to take a
deep breath and answer in as normal a voice as she could manage.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Sidle, Bhupendra Saxena here,” came the lawyer’s
calm voice. “There’s been a development in Dr.
Grissom’s case.”
And Grissom had asked Saxena to call, Sara was sure.
“Yes?” she asked, not bothering to suppress her anxiety.
“New evidence has been uncovered, and a motion has been put forth
to release Dr. Grissom on bail.” He chuckled
slightly. “Somehow I do not think this is news to
you.”
“On bail? Not free?” Sara was too impatient to react to his comment. “Why?”
Saxena hummed, a resigned noise. “I’m told that the
evidence does not clear him entirely, merely throws some doubt upon the
investigation. I’m pushing for an expedited process, but it
may still take some time.”
Sara frowned. “It doesn’t clear him? I thought--“
“D.A. Krikson is arguing that Dr. Grissom could be employing an
accomplice.” Sara grimaced; the supposition did make sense,
in a twisted sort of way. “The fact that the evidence
against him is mostly circumstantial is not helping her case,
however.”
It’s all circumstantial, Sara wanted to say, but didn’t. “When will you know?”
“We are looking at court schedules right now.” A
muffled voice spoke in the background, and Saxena replied with an
answer Sara couldn’t quite make out. “I must
go.”
He gave her a polite goodbye and Sara hung up. Then, moving swiftly, she left the house.
Forty minutes later, she was fuming in Brass’ office.
“They won’t let me in to see Grissom,” she
complained, tapping the top of his desk impatiently.
His tone was mild in reply. “It is past visiting hours, you
know.” He leaned one hand on his desk opposite hers.
“Why don’t you sit down? It could be a while.”
With an effort, Sara kept herself from glaring at him and plopped down
onto the little sofa that took up the back of his office. All of
a sudden she felt very tired, the hours in the sun and the strain of
weeks catching up with her. “Sorry,” she said, a bit
ungraciously.
Brass’ snort was gentle. “If you weren’t here I
might be worried.” He glanced at his watch. “Be
right back.”
He walked out, then returned in minutes with a cup of fresh tea, which
he made her take. “I’d drug it if I thought I could
get away with it,” he remarked dryly as he handed her the
cup. “When’s the last time you slept?”
Sara shrugged at him, not bothering to reply, and Brass rolled his eyes
and moved around his office, closing the blinds. “I’m
going to go see what I can find out. Will you stay here so I can
find you if I need you?”
“...Sure.” There wasn’t anything else she could
do, anyway, but wait; sometimes being out of the loop really sucked.
Brass patted her shoulder and left without another word, closing the door behind him.
At least the tea gave her something to do while she waited; it was hot
and sweet, and put a little warmth back into her fingers.
Sara’s vision kept blurring, and she blinked and blinked, but her
eyes were sandy with fatigue, and she had to set down the cup and lean
back, had to let her head rest against the cushions.
Just for a few minutes.
She was warm and reasonably comfortable, but someone was saying her
name, dragging her from the pit of sleep with a squeeze of her
hand. Feeling gradually returned to her body, and Sara realized
blearily that she was lying curled on a soft surface, a blanket
covering her from toes to neck. Her hand dangled free, though,
and--
Her eyes sprang open. Grissom was crouched next to the sofa, his
eyes soft and worried and amused all at once. “Sara?”
Air wasn’t reaching her lungs fast enough. Sara shot
upright, and then they were locked together, the tightest embrace
she’d ever experienced and every inch of it welcome.
Grissom squeezed her so hard that Sara felt her ribs creak, but she
didn’t care. He smelled of harsh soap and stress, but
underneath was the essence she loved, the subtly indescribable scent of
the man himself.
She closed her eyes against tears, and slid her hands up and down his
back, unable to stop lest he melt from her arms like a dream.
Grissom rocked her back and forth, just slightly; he said nothing, but
she could feel his heart pounding.
When his shoulders heaved in a long sigh, she pulled back and reached
up to cup his face, feeling the scratch of a few days’ worth of
beard. “Gil--“
His fingers covered her lips then slid down her arms until he was
holding her again. “Shh. Let’s--let’s
just go home.“
She couldn’t stop her smile, and his own answered it, and then
their lips met and clung in a hungry sweet caress. Sara’s
heart swelled, and her head ballooned with sudden lightness as all the
weight she’d carried fell away.
When they opened the door Brass was leaning against the opposite wall,
pretending he didn’t care about what was going on in his office,
but his smirk at the sight of their joined hands betrayed him.
“Back door,” he said casually with a jerk of his head in
that direction. “All the reporters are out front.”
Grissom’s lips twitched. “Who tipped them off?”
“They’ve got an insider at the courthouse. Tonight
you get a free pass; tomorrow you gotta deal with ‘em like the
rest of us.” The captain’s eyes were twinkling with
amusement.
Sara snorted. “Thanks, Jim.” She tugged on
Grissom’s hand, and he followed her obediently, exchanging a
glance with Brass that said a lot without any words at all.
The sun was down; they emerged into the dim alley that bordered the
police station and made their way to Sara’s car. More than
a few people had watched them pass through the building, but
fortunately none of them had seemed interested in conversation; Sara
was grateful. There would be time enough for explanations
tomorrow.
She drove him home in a silence that was full of things they would talk
about later. For now, it was enough to be together, for Grissom
to be out of the tiny entrapping cell.
Sara parked her car in the garage, and led Grissom inside, straight up
to the master bath. Still silent, she removed his clothes with
loving concentration, then let him help her strip as well. When
the shower water was hot, she bathed him from head to toe, cleansing
them both of the long days of strain and fear.
Grissom closed his eyes in pleasure as she scrubbed shampoo through his
hair, which always made her smile; she delighted over every inch of his
sturdy body, though residual rage and guilt still smoldered when she
rinsed his fading bruises. Sara laid a kiss on each one, as if
she could heal them with her lips alone.
When he was clean and dry, Grissom took her hand and pulled her into
the bedroom, and into a hug. “I missed you,” he
whispered against her cheek.
Sara kissed his chin, then caught his mouth for a deeper caress. “Missed you too--Gil--“
His hands slid into her wet hair and held her still for another
kiss. Sara let him fill her senses before she guided them both to
the bed and proved how much she had missed him.
The room was dark, but they didn’t really need their eyes.
Grissom had piled a couple of pillows against the headboard so that he
could sit up a little, and now cradled Sara against himself, her head
resting on his chest. She couldn’t keep herself from
stroking his arm, feeling the muscles under warm skin; tangible proof.
It hadn’t taken long to explain it all, to lay out her suspicions
and reasons. Grissom listened in silence, his body warm and
relaxed under hers, open and accepting as no one else ever had
been. When she had finished, he was quiet for a while, then
finally sighed and spoke.
“It makes sense. You’re quite right about her motive,
and from what Bhupendra tells me the figure in the video is just her
height. And I guess there’s no reason to ask why she did
it.” He cocked his head, his short beard brushing her
forehead. “I’d be very interested to see the report
on her financials.”
Sara’s body was heavy with relaxation, but her mind still could
not rest. “Gil--“ she began again, but his arms
tightened.
“If you try to apologize one more time...” There was humor in his voice.
She shook her head, guilt still cankering in her stomach. “I didn’t trust you! Gil, how can you--“ She had to stop and swallow.
He gave her a tiny shake. “Sara. You did exactly what
you were supposed to do. You followed the evidence.”
“Yeah, right into her trap,” Sara said bitterly.
“She knew us both too well,” Grissom said, his palm
smoothing over her shoulder in a reassuring caress. “The
trap was designed for you, sweetheart, but you were too smart for
it.”
Sara sniffed, not convinced. “It was Greg who figured out you were being framed,” she confessed.
Grissom chuckled. “That’s why he’s a CSI.
But you figured out who, and why, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Sara sighed, eyes open in the dark as though
there were answers printed on the air. “But I put you in
that cell.”
“No. Hannah did,” Grissom said firmly.
“Don’t you understand, Sara? I don’t blame you because
you did what was right. If you had ignored the evidence because
you didn’t think I could be the killer...”
“What if I’d figured out the frame part earlier?” she
interrupted, squirming around to face him even though he was no more
than a vague shape in front of her.
His hand touched her face unerringly, curving around in a touch so
tender that her heart swelled. “Then you would have been
justified in doubting.” Grissom let out a breath, and Sara
knew he was smiling at her, the soft proud smile that always
strengthened her. “I know you love and trust me, and I know
that neither your love nor your trust is given blindly. Which
makes them all the more precious to me.”
There was something in her throat, and she couldn’t
breathe. Sara laid her head down on Grissom’s shoulder, and
for the first time since doubt had crept in she cried hard, weeping out
her guilt and anguish and fury. Grissom didn’t try to quiet
her; he just held her tightly, giving her the comfort she needed so
much, and she knew that it was only because he was there that she could
let go.
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