Fandom:
CSI
Pairing: G/S
Rating: PG
Summary: Too many pieces...
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. All the others are mine, and if you
want to play with them, you have to ask me first. No infringement is
intended in any way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are
mine, all mine, no you can't have any.
Spoilers: through "No Humans Involved"
Note: Clichés four, five, twelve, and forty-seven, but I've
always wanted to write one of these. Rating may change later. Thanks
yet again to Cincoflex, who never fails to be wonderfully encouraging,
and who thought of the title.
*********
It was a bit ironic, doing the
research in the middle of everybody, digging up secrets she’d
kept for a long time. But no one was paying the least bit of attention.
The boys were talking in the breakroom, Catherine was busy, and
Grissom--
She looked over, and saw Grissom talking to Sofia. Letting Sofia perch
on the edge of his desk and invade his personal space. Smiling at her.
It made Sara angry, and it made her tired. She started her search query
and looked back again, and this time Grissom looked up and saw her
watching him.
Even at that distance she saw a faint flush tinge his face. He said
something to Sofia and stood, and Sofia slid off the edge of the desk;
they exchanged a few more words before she turned and left. Sara went
back to her research.
He appeared on the edge of her vision a few minutes later, waiting for
her to acknowledge him and finally sighing when she didn’t.
“Sara, it’s not what it looks like.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to
me.” She didn’t lift her eyes from the screen.
“I don’t...” He trailed off, and she
didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “It
wasn’t my idea.”
A bitter, impish impulse hit her. “I didn’t say
anything, Grissom, but I suppose I’d have to go with the
evidence.”
Her peripheral vision was good. He was blinking, obviously struggling
to articulate something. “It’s...circumstantial at
best.”
“Better than hearsay.” She didn’t bother
to look at him, instead clicking on another link on the computer
screen. “Sure feels like shit, doesn’t it,
boss?”
She could almost feel the shock. He stared at her for another long
moment, then apparently lost whatever battle he’d been
waging, because he just sighed and walked away.
She didn’t watch him go.
Out of all of it, the most annoying thing was the constant trickle of
water coming in the broken window. Blip, blip, never quite regular
enough for him to expect it, but each chilly splash was its own little
irritation on his scorched cheek. Almost enough to make him mad.
Except, it was also a distraction from worse things, and he was already
mad. Also upset, in pain, freezing cold, and scared. Very scared.
Get a grip, Stokes.
Panicking won’t help anything and it will
make things worse. He shuddered,
and tried yet again to free himself from his restraint, but he
didn’t have enough leverage.
Plus, his shoulder hurt like crazy, and pushing only made stars go off
in the corners of his eyes.
What a laugh.
I’m soaking wet in the middle of the desert and what should
have been a lifesaver may kill me yet.
Though that wasn’t quite fair--if he hadn’t been
wearing his seatbelt, he would be very messily dead.
Nick relaxed as much as he could, which wasn’t much, and
tried again. “Sara?”
This time, he was rewarded. A groan filtered up from the space below
him. “Sara, talk to me, sugar.”
“Nick?” Her voice was slurred, but she was awake.
He thanked God silently.
“It’s me, all right. How do you feel?”
He couldn’t see her down there; he couldn’t see
much of anything, in fact. The SUV’s headlights were out, and
there wasn’t anything around to give off light. But he heard
her stir, and suck in a breath that ended in a cough. “Like
hell.”
“Join the club.” He pushed once more against the
belt, but his right foot was held in the collapsed space that had held
the SUV’s pedals, and he’d scrabbled and struggled
and he just couldn’t get free. Fortunately for him, his foot
didn’t seem to be too badly injured--just caught. But that
was plenty.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Another groan. “Sort of.”
“Can you move? I’m kind of--stuck.”
“I don’t know, give me a minute.” Her
voice was strained, and Nick knew she had to be hurt too. There was a
rustle of cloth, a rattle, and a grunt. “Uh...no.”
Nick frowned into the dark, trying to figure out how she might be
pinned. “Is there something on top of you?”
“Besides you?” There was just a hint of humor in
her tone. “I’m...not stuck, Nick.”
He was cold, and stressed, and that took a few seconds to process. When
it did, he swallowed hard. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know.” And somehow he knew that
was half a lie. “But let’s just say I’m
gonna be stuck in the lab for a while if we get out of this.”
“When
we get out of this,” he corrected immediately, denying Murphy
and all his kin. “Grissom’s going to miss us pretty
soon, if he hasn’t already.”
A faint “Ya think?” was all he got. Nick shuddered
at the cold and her sarcasm, and suddenly, absurdly, found himself
thinking of the lights in the lab and wondering why they never seemed
to get fixed.
Focus, man. Remember
what happened.
He patterned it out in his head. Catherine had lent him to the night
shift because both Greg and Sophia were out with the flu; it had felt
nice but weird to be back, there’d been too much change
lately, little of it good.
A mountain crime scene, and he and Sara summoned to it; driving into
heavy rain; Sara calling Grissom for more specific directions; rounding
the curve in the darkness, a slope up one side and a slope down on the
other...
...And the rush and rumble of the hillside above them giving way,
overburdened with rain.
Nick remembered the vibrations as the SUV’s tires skidded
sideways across the tarmac, and the dreadful slow tip over the edge,
but the tumble was scarcely more than a racket of sound in his
head--the crush of metal and glass, the slam of the vehicle as it
rolled over and over, his own voice shouting some furious swearword.
When the falling stopped, there had been a breath's worth of silence,
and then--with timing a Vegas performer would envy--the airbag had
activated in his face.
That, out of all the jolts, had made him lose consciousness, though he
didn't think he'd been out for more than thirty seconds or so.
He’d woken to rain, darkness, and a left shoulder that was a
mass of pain; he must have hit it against the door at least once. His
right hand was caught underneath his seatbelt and going numb.
His cheek stung and his mouth tasted of blood, thanks to the airbag,
and he was half-dangling over the passenger seat. He didn’t
know how long it had taken for Sara to wake up, but he did know it was
much longer than he liked. He could smell raw mud and the sharp green
of damaged vegetation, mixed with the reek from the mangled engine, and
counted his blessings that the vehicle hadn’t caught on fire. Yet,
anyway.
And then cursed himself for the thought.
“Sara, sweetheart, can you reach your phone or your
flashlight or anything?” The fact that she hadn’t
done so already alarmed him; normally she would be the first to try to
better their situation.
Another rustle. “My light’s...I can’t
reach it. I don’t know where my phone is.”
That’s right, he remembered now that she’d been
talking to Grissom when they’d slid off the road. It was
probably lost somewhere in the mudslide.
This isn’t
good.
At least Sara was wearing her jacket, he distinctly remembered her
zipping it up as they left the lab. His own was twisted around him, but
he was grateful for its warmth. Though
it won’t be enough, eventually.
It wasn’t freezing, and wasn’t likely to drop that
far, but it was plenty cold enough to kill them both eventually if they
didn’t get help.
Of course, his injuries weren’t that severe, as far as he
could tell. He’d probably survive longer than Sara,
he’d get to listen to her breathing slow down and stop--
Nick shook his head violently, ignoring the pain it brought.
“Well, there’s no way I can reach mine.”
It was lodged behind his right hip. “Don’t suppose
you could reach up here?”
Sara sighed in the darkness. “I don’t think so,
Nick.”
He bit his lip. He remembered plenty of emergency first aid, but it was
all useless at the moment. All he could do was try to keep them both
from slipping into shock. “Tell me where it hurts.”
A sniff, as though she would have snorted if she’d had the
strength. “What, you’re a doctor now,
Stokes?”
“Closest thing we’ve got,” he joked.
“Unless you attended the last safety seminar. Which I know
you didn’t.”
“I was working,” she retorted. “Hot
case.”
“They’re all hot to you. Answer the question,
Sar.”
“Ugh. I hurt all over. How about you?”
“Quit being evasive.”
“Answer me and I’ll answer you.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “I think
I’ve got a busted shoulder, and I can’t feel my
right hand, but other than that I’m just banged up. Your
turn.”
“Nick...”
Fear drove his words, made them harsh. “Tell me, Sara. Hiding
it won’t help anything.”
She grunted. “Broken ribs,” she said after a
moment. “There’s something sharp poking into my
right arm. My head’s bleeding. That enough for
you?”
“Is that all?” he countered sternly.
A little silence, and then-- “I’m losing body heat
kind of fast, Nick. I’m lying in a puddle here.”
His mind raced helplessly over the implications. Rapid loss of body
heat could indicate external bleeding from something besides a head
wound. Not to mention, internal
bleeding was a distinct possibility with broken ribs.
He said the only thing he could think of. “They’ll
find us soon.”
She breathed out, a ghost of a chuckle. “Depends. Grissom has
to notice first.”
“You think he won’t?”
“You know how he gets at a crime scene.”
“He’s not that bad.” If nothing else,
Nick knew, Grissom would notice when he wanted someone for a specific
task. “Keep talking to me. We have to stay alert.”
“Speak for yourself.”
He chuckled at her tone, though it hurt his shoulder. “Aw,
c’mon, don’t go to sleep and leave me here all by
my lonesome.”
He couldn’t see her at all, but he got the feeling she was
smiling. “CSI Level Three Nicky Stokes, afraid of the
dark?”
He clicked his tongue. “You guessed my secret.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping
‘em.” Her voice was a little fainter, and alarm ran
down his spine.
“Grissom’ll notice,” he said firmly, and
remembered. “Heck, you were on the phone with him when we
crashed. He’d notice that.”
Sara groaned a little. “I lost the phone when we started to
slide, Nick. It probably shut off. He’ll just think we lost
the signal.”
“But you didn’t call back,” he pointed
out, wishing again that the rain would stop dripping on him.
“He’s probably relieved,” she muttered
sourly.
“Hey now. Don’t go getting all maudlin on
me.”
“Oh, please.” There was anger in her voice now, and
inwardly Nick cheered it; anger would keep her alert longer. If it took
poking at her sore spot to keep her angry, he would do it.
“This is logic.”
“Logic? You’ll have to explain that one to me,
sugar, I’m feeling a little slow tonight.”
Another sigh. “Nick, you may have gone to swing, but
don’t tell me you didn’t notice before.”
“Hey,” he interrupted, not having to feign a flash
of temper. “We didn’t go
to swing, we got moved there. Nobody asked us.”
She was silent for a moment, and the fact that she didn’t
snap right back at him cooled his anger with a wash of fear.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Shame trickled through him. “Me too.”
“What’s it like?” she asked, and he
grimaced unseen.
“Weird. Not bad weird, just weird weird. Cath’s
still jumpy, but I think she’ll be a good supervisor when she
settles down. But we miss you guys.”
“I miss you too,” Sara answered, and Nick winced a
little at the pronoun. He heard her move slightly, and it was a splashy
sound.
“How’s the head?”
“Still bleeding.”
He worked his ankle in tiny circles, trying yet again to figure out an
angle to pull it free. “You sure it’s not just the
rain?”
“Rain’s cold, Nick. Blood’s
warm.”
“Oh.” He bit his lip, and winced. Okay,
genius, not when you’ve got a burned face.
“So what are you going to do with the vacation
we’ll get after this?” He tried to sound cheerful.
“Stay warm,” she returned, and he remembered anew
how much she hated the cold. “Maybe look for another
job.”
Dismay had his lips parting. “You’re thinking of
leaving?”
She gave that faint chuckle. “I should have left long
ago.”
“C’mon, Sar, the shift thing’ll settle
down soon--“
“Give me a break, Nick.” Her voice was hard.
“This has nothing to do with that.” She made
another sound, one that was muffled but that still made his stomach
twist, and when she spoke again her voice was noticeably weaker.
“I should never have come. Or I should have gone right home
again after I was done.”
“I thought you liked it here.” He had no trouble
understanding her, and he couldn’t keep the pain from his
voice, though he tried.
“I did,” she answered, as though trying to reassure
him. “Once. Not anymore.”
He was starting to get angry again. “It’s
Grissom’s fault, isn’t it?”
Another splash. “Not really, Nick. Or only partly. I did most
of this to myself.” She laughed without humor, and coughed.
“Sara, hold still!”
“I’m wet,”
she complained hoarsely.
“Live with it. What did you do to yourself?”
“Oh, let’s see,” she muttered.
“Chased a guy for three years. Had him turn me down flat. Had
one of my best friends use me. Found out my boyfriend was cheating on
me. Nearly got blown up. Found out the guy I’ve been chasing
cares about me, but not enough.
Got turned down for a promotion. Got pulled over on a DUI.”
She coughed again. “Then the team I work with gets broken up,
so there’s nobody left to notice when I’m having a
hard time. The guy I’ve been chasing turns out to be
interested in the new girl. Everything’s going to hell in a
handbasket, and then
I fall over a cliff and I’m lying in a puddle freezing while
you ask me stupid questions!”
Nick’s head spun at her words, and he could feel his throat
getting tight. I knew she was
having a bad time...but... He
wanted to apologize for all of them--he wanted to be able to give her
the hug she deserved, to offer her comfort in the best way he knew. But
there were more immediate concerns. Keep
her mad, remember?
He made his voice harsh. “How’re we supposed to
notice, Sara? You never let anyone in anymore.”
A longer silence, and it started to scare him; just as he was about to
say her name, she broke it.
“You know what, Nick? It doesn’t matter.”
She didn’t sound angry; she just sounded weary.
“None of it matters anymore. I give up. I can’t
advance professionally and I can’t win personally.”
“Sara--“
Her voice was quieter. “No more brick walls, Nick. Grissom
called me here, and all I’ve done since is make myself
miserable. Gonna quit.”
“Sara! Stop it.” Panic was biting at him again.
One more ghost-chuckle. “Maybe I’ll go work for the
FBI. Or maybe I’ll just go to sleep here.”
“Sara, sugar, don’t do this. Stay awake. You have
to stay awake.”
“Says who?” Softer still. “Damn Grissom
anyway, for making me love him.”
Nick seized on that with a desperate grip. “What’ll
it do to him if you die here, Sara, tell me that? You know he--cares
about you.”
“Does not. Prefers blondes.” Her words were
slurring a little.
“It’ll destroy him to lose you.”
“No it won’t.” She mumbled something he
couldn’t quite catch. “I’m cold,
Nick.”
“So’m I, Sara, stay with me!”
Another mumble. “Say that again, sugar, I didn’t
hear you.”
“Nick?”
“I’m here, Sara. Talk to me.”
Her voice was almost inaudible now. “Take care of them, okay?
Take care of him.”
“Sara, don’t!”
There was no answer.
His tears were scorching his cheeks. He didn’t know how many
times he called her name, begging her to answer, commanding her,
without response. It seemed like forever before lights shone down from
above, before voices shouted and bodies came sliding down the hill. He
winced at the flashlight beams that pierced the broken windshield and
caught on his face; one voice he didn’t recognize, but the
other was familiar. “Nick? Sara?”
“We’re here,” he shouted, seeing little
besides the jumping lights until two forms rounded the crumpled SUV. A
state trooper, and Grissom, both streaked with mud. “She
needs help, you have to get her out!”
Somebody moaned, and someone else swore, and he didn’t know
which of any of them it was. Then they shone the lights down below him,
and he looked, and he knew it was him swearing this time.
Sara lay on her side, still belted in, the shattered glass of the side
window covered by a muddy puddle that had an ominous scarlet tint. Her
hair was matted with blood and her lips were blue-tinged and
red-smeared.
And she didn’t move.
His thoughts started to come unraveled as more people appeared and the
thunder of a helicopter approached.
“Get her out first!” he protested, as hands took
hold of him and lifted. “Let me go, I can wait--“
“Nick, relax and let them help you.”
Grissom’s voice was strained. “They can’t
move her until they move you.”
He grunted in pain. “My foot’s stuck.”
There were long minutes of delay, discussion, and he wanted to scream
at them. One of the troopers began carefully knocking out the remaining
glass of the windshield, and as soon as he was done an EMT knelt in the
mud outside, leaning in over Sara’s still form. He blocked
Nick’s view, but it didn’t matter as long as she
was getting care--
He was starting to lose it. His awareness kept fading in and out, even
though Grissom kept talking to him in that soft urgent voice. He
couldn’t concentrate.
Then they brought in something that looked like a small chainsaw, and
he was vaguely impressed at how low the EMT could crouch, and how the
guy managed to ignore the racket just above his head as someone else
cut through the tangle holding Nick’s foot captive.
They lifted him free, telling him not to move, to let them do all the
work. He recognized the stretcher they were strapping him on, and
struggled a little, afraid that the chopper would leave too soon.
“Sara,” he pleaded, looking for understanding in
the all-business faces above him. “We can’t go
without her--“
Grissom was there again, his face drawn, glancing back over his
shoulder. “They won’t leave without her, Nick. Just
relax. Let them take care of you.”
“I tried to keep her awake,” Nick managed, trying
to tell someone. “I tried.”
“I know.” Grissom’s hand was warm on his
head, the only part of him not covered. “I know you
did.”
He vanished, and there was no one left but strangers, talking over Nick
like he wasn’t even there. At least he was starting to get
warm.
Then the helicopter roared, and he flew.
Chapter
1
|
|
