CSI REDUX
Title: CSI Redux
Chapter: Grave Danger
Rating: M for language
Pairing: GSR
Disclaimer: I was naughty so Santa didn't put them under my tree.
Beta: Yes, the lovely Mingsmommy.
Author's Notes: Sorry this chapter took so long. Computer gremlins abducted it and I had to negotiate a ransom.
Sweat trickled down her back agonizingly slow. Her eyes burned from staring intently, an irrational fear that if she took her eyes away something terrible would happen. Her heart hammered away in her chest like a crazed pugilist and all she wanted to do was scream her fear and frustration out before she imploded.
Somehow the ransom money had been delivered to the lab.
A miracle?
Sara wasn’t jaded enough to say no but was savvy enough to know that Grissom knew where the money came from. And although she knew he was a rich man, Grissom wasn’t that rich. And to be honest, Sara didn’t care where the money had come from as long as it saved Nick. She was worried for her friend and wanted him above ground in the worst way. But as frightened as Sara was for Nick, the terror that ran through upon finding out Grissom had elected himself as the bagman had nearly floored her.
When Greg had come running into the room Sara had been working in, his eyes wide his words tumbling from his mouth excitedly, “Grissom’s making the drop.” Sara’s heart had stopped and her mouth had gone dry. Her dark gaze went shooting through wall after see-through wall, as she searched for Grissom in his now vacant office. “What?” She asked, standing abruptly, praying she had misheard Greg.
“We got the ransom money. Grissom’s gonna do the drop,” Greg rushed on, bouncing, eager to go. “Come on,” he demanded with a toss of his head.
Greg didn’t have to ask twice. Sara beat him through the door and led the way to the SUV parked outside. “Why didn’t he tell me?” She muttered, jumping behind the wheel, the palms of her hands sweaty.
“Who?” Greg asked yanking his seatbelt across his chest forcefully. “Grissom?”
Sara didn’t answer, just slammed the truck in reverse and hit the gas pedal. In no time they were out of the parking lot and on their way to the rendezvous point, which Sara had learned during their quick exit of the building was two blocks from the drop off address.
Why was Grissom making the ransom drop? Why hadn’t he told her what was going on? Why was the backup two blocks away? Those were only a few of the questions that raced through her worried mind and caused her adrenaline to soar.
God, if anything happens to him…
Sara flipped the emergency lights and siren on as her foot pressed the gas pedal further. Greg hazarded a quick glance at the woman behind the wheel, his right hand gripping the handle of the door as he prayed they made it to their destination in one piece.
* * * * * * * *
Nick’s kidnapper had chosen an area not from Industrial where small warehouses and abandoned factories abutted rundown houses in a neighborhood Sara and the rest of the assembled law enforcement knew well. Sara doubted a week went by that she or one of her fellow CSIs weren’t called out to the area for some crime, and it generally wasn’t a pretty scene.
They had chased the address where the package had come from. The Styrofoam cup was still a mystery and the traffic cams had only given them a possible direction for a truck that may or may not have had Nick in it, which only made their present situation more maddening. They needed more evidence or they needed the kidnapper to make a mistake, either one would be preferable to Sara if it didn’t involve Grissom walking into a solitary building alone.
Sara’s chest ached from the hammering of her heart, she could almost taste her own fear and it took a will she did not know she possessed, that was near to snapping, not to run from the command post straight to Grissom. She wanted nothing more than to scream at Jim Brass to stop Grissom where he was and just have his S.W.A.T. guys go charging into the building. As it was, Sara, like Brass, Catherine, Warrick and Greg, was left to wait it out in the sweltering sun, watching Grissom in a twelve inch black and white monitor as he scanned the street around the building.
Perhaps in a different situation, Sara might have made a joke about how many criminalists could you stuff in one tactical van, the S.W.A.T. truck crammed with worried friends as they watched the video feed with baited breaths. Occasionally the officer hidden with the camera would sweep the area, at one point causing Sara to groan in agony at the lost contact with Grissom. Thankfully, Catherine had taken that moment to berate the unseen S.W.A.T. officer, taking the man’s name in vain and questioning his parentage.
The time it took for Grissom to go from his Tahoe to the building was, in reality only a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. And the moment he stepped into the building, disappearing into the shadows within, Sara was certain she could feel every microsecond elongating into forever. The loss of visual confirmation that Grissom was still alive, unharmed, had given Sara some spark of solace. Without, she could no longer stand the confines of the truck and had to quickly make her exit.
She felt physically ill but could do nothing more than pace the curb, her arms wrapped around her protectively as her eyes stared off in the direction of the abandoned building and Grissom. Two blocks separated him from Sara but it felt like a continent. It was like one of those maddening nightmares where she could almost run fast enough, climb high enough or reach far enough to escape whatever danger haunted her but in the end it was never enough. He was less than a quarter mile away, she could run it in under two minutes and yet she felt trapped light years from him.
Radio chatter on the mobile command center speakers picked up. Whispered, breathless voices filtered through, distorted occasionally with a crackle or dead air. There was something going on, something more than just Grissom entering a building with a suspected kidnapper.
“Say again, Delta One,” Sara heard Brass say as she made her way to the open doors at the back of the truck.
Two of the small monitors within the truck revealed the movements of a pair of SWAT officers, the black and white picture bouncing erratically as the men made their way closer to the building.
“Courier has stopped at the west end of the building,” was Brass’ answer. “Picking up second heat source. Someone’s in there with him.”
Brass glanced briefly through the open doors at Sara.
“Roger that, Delta One. Code Red, possible suspect on premises,” Brass returned before adding. “All units be aware UA on premises, wearing dark jacket and pants.”
Although Brass had alerted all personnel to Grissom’s presence at the scene, he would rather repeat it again and again, rather than have some hair triggered rookie putting a bullet in his friend by mistake.
Again Brass looked to Sara, giving her a small, reassuring smile. They were all worried about Nick and they were all apprehensive about Grissom but somehow Brass imagined that one of them was a little more anxious about the latter than the rest of them. No matter where the two were at emotionally now, Brass knew where Sara and Grissom had come from and what they had shared. There was a bond between the two that seemed impervious to any of the crap Grissom or Sara threw at it.
A call over the radio stole the police captain’s full attention.
“We’ve got a visual on the suspect,” the SWAT commander informed Brass as his hand adjusted his black cap. “Delta Six, do you have visual of Courier?”
There was a lengthy pause, made twice as long as Sara held her breath.
“Negative,” came the delayed reply. “Suspect appears to be talking to…hold…”
Sara’s already racing pulse accelerated. She wanted to scream for the SWAT guys to get Grissom out of there; instead she gritted her teeth and hugged herself tighter.
“Shit, Delta One, this guy’s got about a pound of Semtech strapped to his ass,” the officer at the other end hissed.
Sara dropped her hands to her side, her wide eyes darting towards the direction of the money drop and the crowded interior of the SWAT van. Warrick jumped down from the truck, his movements anxious and indecisive as he took a couple of paces in the direction of the danger before angrily turning back unable to leave the tenuous, auditory connection they had.
“Six, can you-“
The roar and rumble of the explosion caught everyone by surprise. The sound mimicking the deafening resonance of Sara’s frightened heartbeat within her own ears. Her eyes snapped up, catching Warrick’s startled gaze and within half a heartbeat the two CSIs were sprinting in the directions of the billowing dust and smoke. Somewhere behind them Brass was yelling, ordering them to stop but neither seemed to hear. Adrenaline and fear had taken over, rationality and a command structure had been thrown out the window.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Sara was a dedicated runner, Warrick would have probably left her far behind. As it was, with a few short cuts through vacant lots and one alley, the two CSIs arrived at the building just as two SWAT officers, dressed in black tactical gear, were helping Grissom through a dock bay door, a shoulder under each of Grissom’s arms.
“GRIS!” Warrick called out as Sara bolted across the dusty expanse separating her from Grissom.
The two men handed Grissom over to the paramedics but Grissom waved off the paramedics’ assistance. The world had stopped spinning enough that he could make his own way to the bumper of the ambulance, where he eased himself down, his mind reeling at what the man within the building had just done.
“He blew himself up,” Grissom said, his voice revealing his disbelief. “And now we have nothing.”
Slowly, Grissom realized that the paramedic in front of him was asking him a question. “What?” he asked, having not heard the man’s query.
“Do you have any ringing in your ears?”
Ringing? “No,” Grissom answered his eyes falling on Sara who was nearly vibrating in place. “I’m fine,” he told the paramedic but his words were meant for her. “Really.”
Warrick had shown up beside Sara, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he took in Grissom’s appearance. Seeing that his friend and mentor had all his limbs and was still breathing, Warrick heaved a huge sigh of relief.
“Damn, Gris,” he said, dropping his hand from Sara’s shoulder. “Nearly had me coding.” Warrick nodded in the direction he had come. “Don’t do that again.”
Grissom gave Warrick a look, that was somewhere between annoyed and incredulous. “Wasn’t even on today’s to do list,” he told Warrick as he stood, politely brushing off the paramedics concerns.
The arrival of Brass, Catherine and Greg had Grissom again reassuring everyone that he was fine. Grissom had no doubt that he would have a number of bruises and some new clothes that didn’t smell of explosives would be in his immediate future but physically he would be fine, his concern at that moment was trying to find something in the carnage of the building that would point them in the direction of Nick.
“The minute the bomb squad releases the scene, we need to be in there,” he told Catherine, indicating the building with a tilt of his head.
“They’re going through it now,” Brass informed them as he approached. “You, however, are going to the hospital to get checked out.”
The look on Brass’ face said don’t argue but Grissom was in a frame of mind to do just that.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“I’m sure you are,” Brass said, giving the paramedic a subtle nod. “It’d take more than a pound of Semtech to put a crack in that hard head of yours, but you’re still going to get checked off by the docs.”
“Jim-“
“Willing, unwilling, your choice, Gil.”
Brass cocked his head to one side, daring Grissom to push it.
Deciding he didn’t want to be shackled and tossed into the ambulance, Grissom barked, “Fine. Catherine-“
The all clear from the bomb squad had Warrick and Greg heading to their vehicles as they prepared to enter the building and process it for much needed evidence
“I know what to do, Grissom,” Catherine butted in, waving him towards the ambulance as she backed away. “Just go get checked out and cleaned up, there’s no time to argue with your stubborn ass.”
Brass gave his friend a wink as he prepared to take his leave. “Glad you didn’t get yourself blown up,” he told Grissom before turning and leaving.
That left Sara.
Grissom turned to her, fear and worry raging in her dark eyes. He could tell by the barely hidden tension within her body that she was on the edge of coming undone. The urge to physically comfort her was nearly overwhelming but, even though everyone else was busy getting ready to enter the building, their attention on the task at hand, Grissom knew he could not take Sara in his arms and ease her worried mind.
Slowly, as to be almost unnoticed, Grissom reached across the small space separating him from Sara, his fingers grasping hers in a light hold, before slipping away as he turned to enter the ambulance. “I’m okay,” he told her, his voice warm, the small smile on his face genuine as he took a seat on the gurney.
Sara smiled back, believing him but still wanting to take him in her arms and hold him. One of Sara’s first thoughts after learning of Nick’s abduction was, “Thank God it wasn’t Gil.” She felt guilty for thinking it but could not deny the feeling behind it. She’d be a useless wreck if it was Gil lying in that box beneath the earth.
Seeing Sara’s answering smile, Grissom added, “Now, get to work CSI Sidle.”
Sara ducked her head, smiling brighter for that brief moment. “Yes, sir,” she answered, almost sweetly before the paramedic closed the doors.
With Grissom and the ambulance on the way to the hospital, Sara turned her attention to finding anything that would bring Nick back to them safely. Grissom would be fine. Despite the residual fear that still coursed through her veins, Sara knew that Grissom would be okay.
* * * * * * * * *
How could twelve hours feel like twelve days?
How could sixty minutes feel like a lifetime?
Those were two of the many questions throbbing within Sara’s skull as she helped Greg pack up Warrick’s Tahoe, Greg having volunteered to drive the truck back, wanting to check on Nick at the hospital and promising to let them Sara know as soon as he knew anything. Grissom had volunteered to take custody of the evidence and take it back to lab before joining Greg, Catherine and Warrick at the hospital.
“I’m going to help Grissom,” Sara told Greg through the open passenger window of the truck.
Greg gave her a nod, saying nothing before Sara took a step back to let him back up and drive off.
It had been sixty minutes since they yanked Nick from his early grave. Sixty minutes since Grissom had entered that grave, knowing full well that it was full of explosives, knowing Walter Gordon had never intended to let Nick survive or anyone else that had dared to come and save him. Sixty excruciating minutes!
And it had been a lifetime since Sara felt like she could breathe again.
Brass had left shortly after the ambulance carrying Nick, Catherine and Warrick had sped off, along with the majority of the police force that had come in their frantic search for Nick. Ecklie made a showing at staying to help, and Sara felt he really wanted to, but he was the odd man out and it showed and before long he was talking about needing to update the Sheriff, Lab Director and press on the situation.
With Greg gone, that left Sara, Grissom and a pair of officers trying to stay warm in their squad car as they watched over the remaining CSIs and the crime scene. The two men would have the dull but important task of watching the area until morning, while she and Grissom prepared to take the evidence to the lab.
Grissom’s Tahoe was parked at the entrance to the nursery, fifty yards as the crow flies from the hole in the ground that was to be Nick’s hidden grave. As she walked along side him, through the palisade of young trees, Sara couldn’t resist the anger that was quickly building inside of her. She was angry at Walter Gordon for taking Nick, a kind and good man, and putting him through hell, nearly killing him. She was angry at the man for nearly blowing Grissom up, not once but twice, and she was angry at Grissom.
Sara placed the evidence she had been carrying in the back of the SUV, almost as if she was on autopilot. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that Grissom was speaking to her, something about the evidence, cleaning up and Nick, but all she could think about was Grissom, kneeling in that grave, staying there after ordering Warrick from the hole, after Catherine had alerted everyone of the explosives beneath. Rationally, Sara knew why he had done it but she wasn’t feeling very rational at that moment and found that she was, in point of fact, quickly becoming irrational.
“Okay,” Grissom began as he shut the rear doors, “ready to-“
Sara smacking his arm angrily halted any words Grissom had had to say, his blue eyes going wide with wonder and worry. “Sara?”
At the sound of his voice, a torrent of bottled up emotion came raging out as Sara shoved him angrily away. “How could you,” she demanded, tears slipping unwanted from her troubled eyes.
“Wha?”
“How could you?” Sara said through gritted teeth. “How could you get in that hole? How could you put yourself in that kind of danger?” She raged, shoving him with each question, and hitting him the chest with the last.
Grissom took Sara’s wrist gently in his hands, holding them to his chest. His blue eyes, almost black in the darkness, took Sara’s tearstained face in with worry and wonder, not really understanding her reaction.
“Sara, honey, I had to,” he explained, holding her near as she half-heartedly struggled to free herself. “Yes,” he said to her feebly shaking head. “Nicky would have blown himself up. He wasn’t thinking straight. He needed someone to be there with him, to know he wasn’t alone anymore, that we were getting him out, not leaving him behind.”
Sara continued to shake her head weakly, not knowing why she was resisting Grissom’s logic. Because, somewhere deep down she knew he was right, but right didn’t take away the staggering fear she had felt, that still clung to her like some cold, wet shroud. Logic didn’t make the visions of Grissom dead, torn to bloody pieces by Walter Gordon’s bombs, go away. Right didn’t take away the panic she felt when she had thought she had lost him.
Memories of her father’s bloody body flashed across her mind’s eye. The crushing grief of Jamie’s loss reminding Sara of what she could have lost that day.
“I could have lost you,” she whispered brokenly, her forehead slowly coming to rest at the crook of his neck.
Grissom felt her warm tears against his neck, felt the tremors that sporadically coursed through her frame and without thought of being out in the open, wrapped his arms around Sara, pulling her close.
“Honey,” he whispered near her ear, placing a tender kiss at her temple. “I’m right here with you,” he told her before taking her head in his hands and looking into her eyes.
Sara made a sound between a sniffle and a hiccup before she grabbed his jacket in a two fisted grip and pulled him forward. Taking his lips with her own, Sara kissed Grissom desperately, passionately. The feel of his lips on hers, warm and alive, of his strong hands at her hips gripping her, holding her was the validation that Sara’s overwrought mind and fear plagued heart needed.
He’s alive! Her mind and heart sang as her hands loosened their grip on his jacket to slide up and over his chest to clasp behind his neck. He’s alive.
It was risky what they were doing, kissing out in the open, but Grissom sensed that Sara needed this affirmation of his well being and if he was willing to search his own heart, he would find that he needed her right where she was, in his arms. With a step back and a slow twirl, Grissom was able to place Sara up against the Tahoe, near the rear tire. The truck would obscure them from the officers guarding the crime scene should they venture out of their patrol car but they were wide open should anyone come driving down the path that lead from the main road. Still, it was risk both of them were willing to take.
The desperate press of lips had slowed, only slightly, to a more hungry slide of lips as tongues delved and danced, tasting one another and life all at once. Two sets of hearts hammered, no longer by fear, but by a measure far stronger and lasting as the two secret lovers parted imperceptibly, gasping much needed air.
“Gil,” Sara whispered, a hand coming up to hold his cheek, her thumb tracing his lower lip. “I love you,” she told him for the first time in ten years, unable to hold back the words, unwilling to deny the emotion.
In the darkness that precedes the dawn, Grissom’s eyes shone like water under a desert moon; sparkling diamonds in an inky blackness, but did not give away the torrent of emotions that erupted from within. Fear, joy, uncertainty, love swelled within his heart. His mind couldn’t seem to find a nice, safe cubby hole to place Sara’s declaration in, and rather than attempt to stammer some ridiculous statement about danger evoking highly emotional responses; Grissom swooped down, his palms lovingly cupping her face as he kissed her with every ounce of emotion he had.
When they parted, Sara sighed happily. She hadn’t expected Grissom to return her heartfelt statement. Sara had become quite used to waiting for Grissom. Intelligently speaking, Grissom ran circles around most and kept someone as smart as Sara on her toes but emotionally it was always a game of catch up for Grissom. It could be frustrating at times, sometimes bordering on painful, but at that moment, having him alive and well in her arms Sara just didn’t care. She’d always wait for her one and only.
Chapter: Grave Danger
Rating: M for language
Pairing: GSR
Disclaimer: I was naughty so Santa didn't put them under my tree.
Beta: Yes, the lovely Mingsmommy.
Author's Notes: Sorry this chapter took so long. Computer gremlins abducted it and I had to negotiate a ransom.
Sweat trickled down her back agonizingly slow. Her eyes burned from staring intently, an irrational fear that if she took her eyes away something terrible would happen. Her heart hammered away in her chest like a crazed pugilist and all she wanted to do was scream her fear and frustration out before she imploded.
Somehow the ransom money had been delivered to the lab.
A miracle?
Sara wasn’t jaded enough to say no but was savvy enough to know that Grissom knew where the money came from. And although she knew he was a rich man, Grissom wasn’t that rich. And to be honest, Sara didn’t care where the money had come from as long as it saved Nick. She was worried for her friend and wanted him above ground in the worst way. But as frightened as Sara was for Nick, the terror that ran through upon finding out Grissom had elected himself as the bagman had nearly floored her.
When Greg had come running into the room Sara had been working in, his eyes wide his words tumbling from his mouth excitedly, “Grissom’s making the drop.” Sara’s heart had stopped and her mouth had gone dry. Her dark gaze went shooting through wall after see-through wall, as she searched for Grissom in his now vacant office. “What?” She asked, standing abruptly, praying she had misheard Greg.
“We got the ransom money. Grissom’s gonna do the drop,” Greg rushed on, bouncing, eager to go. “Come on,” he demanded with a toss of his head.
Greg didn’t have to ask twice. Sara beat him through the door and led the way to the SUV parked outside. “Why didn’t he tell me?” She muttered, jumping behind the wheel, the palms of her hands sweaty.
“Who?” Greg asked yanking his seatbelt across his chest forcefully. “Grissom?”
Sara didn’t answer, just slammed the truck in reverse and hit the gas pedal. In no time they were out of the parking lot and on their way to the rendezvous point, which Sara had learned during their quick exit of the building was two blocks from the drop off address.
Why was Grissom making the ransom drop? Why hadn’t he told her what was going on? Why was the backup two blocks away? Those were only a few of the questions that raced through her worried mind and caused her adrenaline to soar.
God, if anything happens to him…
Sara flipped the emergency lights and siren on as her foot pressed the gas pedal further. Greg hazarded a quick glance at the woman behind the wheel, his right hand gripping the handle of the door as he prayed they made it to their destination in one piece.
* * * * * * * *
Nick’s kidnapper had chosen an area not from Industrial where small warehouses and abandoned factories abutted rundown houses in a neighborhood Sara and the rest of the assembled law enforcement knew well. Sara doubted a week went by that she or one of her fellow CSIs weren’t called out to the area for some crime, and it generally wasn’t a pretty scene.
They had chased the address where the package had come from. The Styrofoam cup was still a mystery and the traffic cams had only given them a possible direction for a truck that may or may not have had Nick in it, which only made their present situation more maddening. They needed more evidence or they needed the kidnapper to make a mistake, either one would be preferable to Sara if it didn’t involve Grissom walking into a solitary building alone.
Sara’s chest ached from the hammering of her heart, she could almost taste her own fear and it took a will she did not know she possessed, that was near to snapping, not to run from the command post straight to Grissom. She wanted nothing more than to scream at Jim Brass to stop Grissom where he was and just have his S.W.A.T. guys go charging into the building. As it was, Sara, like Brass, Catherine, Warrick and Greg, was left to wait it out in the sweltering sun, watching Grissom in a twelve inch black and white monitor as he scanned the street around the building.
Perhaps in a different situation, Sara might have made a joke about how many criminalists could you stuff in one tactical van, the S.W.A.T. truck crammed with worried friends as they watched the video feed with baited breaths. Occasionally the officer hidden with the camera would sweep the area, at one point causing Sara to groan in agony at the lost contact with Grissom. Thankfully, Catherine had taken that moment to berate the unseen S.W.A.T. officer, taking the man’s name in vain and questioning his parentage.
The time it took for Grissom to go from his Tahoe to the building was, in reality only a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours. And the moment he stepped into the building, disappearing into the shadows within, Sara was certain she could feel every microsecond elongating into forever. The loss of visual confirmation that Grissom was still alive, unharmed, had given Sara some spark of solace. Without, she could no longer stand the confines of the truck and had to quickly make her exit.
She felt physically ill but could do nothing more than pace the curb, her arms wrapped around her protectively as her eyes stared off in the direction of the abandoned building and Grissom. Two blocks separated him from Sara but it felt like a continent. It was like one of those maddening nightmares where she could almost run fast enough, climb high enough or reach far enough to escape whatever danger haunted her but in the end it was never enough. He was less than a quarter mile away, she could run it in under two minutes and yet she felt trapped light years from him.
Radio chatter on the mobile command center speakers picked up. Whispered, breathless voices filtered through, distorted occasionally with a crackle or dead air. There was something going on, something more than just Grissom entering a building with a suspected kidnapper.
“Say again, Delta One,” Sara heard Brass say as she made her way to the open doors at the back of the truck.
Two of the small monitors within the truck revealed the movements of a pair of SWAT officers, the black and white picture bouncing erratically as the men made their way closer to the building.
“Courier has stopped at the west end of the building,” was Brass’ answer. “Picking up second heat source. Someone’s in there with him.”
Brass glanced briefly through the open doors at Sara.
“Roger that, Delta One. Code Red, possible suspect on premises,” Brass returned before adding. “All units be aware UA on premises, wearing dark jacket and pants.”
Although Brass had alerted all personnel to Grissom’s presence at the scene, he would rather repeat it again and again, rather than have some hair triggered rookie putting a bullet in his friend by mistake.
Again Brass looked to Sara, giving her a small, reassuring smile. They were all worried about Nick and they were all apprehensive about Grissom but somehow Brass imagined that one of them was a little more anxious about the latter than the rest of them. No matter where the two were at emotionally now, Brass knew where Sara and Grissom had come from and what they had shared. There was a bond between the two that seemed impervious to any of the crap Grissom or Sara threw at it.
A call over the radio stole the police captain’s full attention.
“We’ve got a visual on the suspect,” the SWAT commander informed Brass as his hand adjusted his black cap. “Delta Six, do you have visual of Courier?”
There was a lengthy pause, made twice as long as Sara held her breath.
“Negative,” came the delayed reply. “Suspect appears to be talking to…hold…”
Sara’s already racing pulse accelerated. She wanted to scream for the SWAT guys to get Grissom out of there; instead she gritted her teeth and hugged herself tighter.
“Shit, Delta One, this guy’s got about a pound of Semtech strapped to his ass,” the officer at the other end hissed.
Sara dropped her hands to her side, her wide eyes darting towards the direction of the money drop and the crowded interior of the SWAT van. Warrick jumped down from the truck, his movements anxious and indecisive as he took a couple of paces in the direction of the danger before angrily turning back unable to leave the tenuous, auditory connection they had.
“Six, can you-“
The roar and rumble of the explosion caught everyone by surprise. The sound mimicking the deafening resonance of Sara’s frightened heartbeat within her own ears. Her eyes snapped up, catching Warrick’s startled gaze and within half a heartbeat the two CSIs were sprinting in the directions of the billowing dust and smoke. Somewhere behind them Brass was yelling, ordering them to stop but neither seemed to hear. Adrenaline and fear had taken over, rationality and a command structure had been thrown out the window.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Sara was a dedicated runner, Warrick would have probably left her far behind. As it was, with a few short cuts through vacant lots and one alley, the two CSIs arrived at the building just as two SWAT officers, dressed in black tactical gear, were helping Grissom through a dock bay door, a shoulder under each of Grissom’s arms.
“GRIS!” Warrick called out as Sara bolted across the dusty expanse separating her from Grissom.
The two men handed Grissom over to the paramedics but Grissom waved off the paramedics’ assistance. The world had stopped spinning enough that he could make his own way to the bumper of the ambulance, where he eased himself down, his mind reeling at what the man within the building had just done.
“He blew himself up,” Grissom said, his voice revealing his disbelief. “And now we have nothing.”
Slowly, Grissom realized that the paramedic in front of him was asking him a question. “What?” he asked, having not heard the man’s query.
“Do you have any ringing in your ears?”
Ringing? “No,” Grissom answered his eyes falling on Sara who was nearly vibrating in place. “I’m fine,” he told the paramedic but his words were meant for her. “Really.”
Warrick had shown up beside Sara, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he took in Grissom’s appearance. Seeing that his friend and mentor had all his limbs and was still breathing, Warrick heaved a huge sigh of relief.
“Damn, Gris,” he said, dropping his hand from Sara’s shoulder. “Nearly had me coding.” Warrick nodded in the direction he had come. “Don’t do that again.”
Grissom gave Warrick a look, that was somewhere between annoyed and incredulous. “Wasn’t even on today’s to do list,” he told Warrick as he stood, politely brushing off the paramedics concerns.
The arrival of Brass, Catherine and Greg had Grissom again reassuring everyone that he was fine. Grissom had no doubt that he would have a number of bruises and some new clothes that didn’t smell of explosives would be in his immediate future but physically he would be fine, his concern at that moment was trying to find something in the carnage of the building that would point them in the direction of Nick.
“The minute the bomb squad releases the scene, we need to be in there,” he told Catherine, indicating the building with a tilt of his head.
“They’re going through it now,” Brass informed them as he approached. “You, however, are going to the hospital to get checked out.”
The look on Brass’ face said don’t argue but Grissom was in a frame of mind to do just that.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“I’m sure you are,” Brass said, giving the paramedic a subtle nod. “It’d take more than a pound of Semtech to put a crack in that hard head of yours, but you’re still going to get checked off by the docs.”
“Jim-“
“Willing, unwilling, your choice, Gil.”
Brass cocked his head to one side, daring Grissom to push it.
Deciding he didn’t want to be shackled and tossed into the ambulance, Grissom barked, “Fine. Catherine-“
The all clear from the bomb squad had Warrick and Greg heading to their vehicles as they prepared to enter the building and process it for much needed evidence
“I know what to do, Grissom,” Catherine butted in, waving him towards the ambulance as she backed away. “Just go get checked out and cleaned up, there’s no time to argue with your stubborn ass.”
Brass gave his friend a wink as he prepared to take his leave. “Glad you didn’t get yourself blown up,” he told Grissom before turning and leaving.
That left Sara.
Grissom turned to her, fear and worry raging in her dark eyes. He could tell by the barely hidden tension within her body that she was on the edge of coming undone. The urge to physically comfort her was nearly overwhelming but, even though everyone else was busy getting ready to enter the building, their attention on the task at hand, Grissom knew he could not take Sara in his arms and ease her worried mind.
Slowly, as to be almost unnoticed, Grissom reached across the small space separating him from Sara, his fingers grasping hers in a light hold, before slipping away as he turned to enter the ambulance. “I’m okay,” he told her, his voice warm, the small smile on his face genuine as he took a seat on the gurney.
Sara smiled back, believing him but still wanting to take him in her arms and hold him. One of Sara’s first thoughts after learning of Nick’s abduction was, “Thank God it wasn’t Gil.” She felt guilty for thinking it but could not deny the feeling behind it. She’d be a useless wreck if it was Gil lying in that box beneath the earth.
Seeing Sara’s answering smile, Grissom added, “Now, get to work CSI Sidle.”
Sara ducked her head, smiling brighter for that brief moment. “Yes, sir,” she answered, almost sweetly before the paramedic closed the doors.
With Grissom and the ambulance on the way to the hospital, Sara turned her attention to finding anything that would bring Nick back to them safely. Grissom would be fine. Despite the residual fear that still coursed through her veins, Sara knew that Grissom would be okay.
* * * * * * * * *
How could twelve hours feel like twelve days?
How could sixty minutes feel like a lifetime?
Those were two of the many questions throbbing within Sara’s skull as she helped Greg pack up Warrick’s Tahoe, Greg having volunteered to drive the truck back, wanting to check on Nick at the hospital and promising to let them Sara know as soon as he knew anything. Grissom had volunteered to take custody of the evidence and take it back to lab before joining Greg, Catherine and Warrick at the hospital.
“I’m going to help Grissom,” Sara told Greg through the open passenger window of the truck.
Greg gave her a nod, saying nothing before Sara took a step back to let him back up and drive off.
It had been sixty minutes since they yanked Nick from his early grave. Sixty minutes since Grissom had entered that grave, knowing full well that it was full of explosives, knowing Walter Gordon had never intended to let Nick survive or anyone else that had dared to come and save him. Sixty excruciating minutes!
And it had been a lifetime since Sara felt like she could breathe again.
Brass had left shortly after the ambulance carrying Nick, Catherine and Warrick had sped off, along with the majority of the police force that had come in their frantic search for Nick. Ecklie made a showing at staying to help, and Sara felt he really wanted to, but he was the odd man out and it showed and before long he was talking about needing to update the Sheriff, Lab Director and press on the situation.
With Greg gone, that left Sara, Grissom and a pair of officers trying to stay warm in their squad car as they watched over the remaining CSIs and the crime scene. The two men would have the dull but important task of watching the area until morning, while she and Grissom prepared to take the evidence to the lab.
Grissom’s Tahoe was parked at the entrance to the nursery, fifty yards as the crow flies from the hole in the ground that was to be Nick’s hidden grave. As she walked along side him, through the palisade of young trees, Sara couldn’t resist the anger that was quickly building inside of her. She was angry at Walter Gordon for taking Nick, a kind and good man, and putting him through hell, nearly killing him. She was angry at the man for nearly blowing Grissom up, not once but twice, and she was angry at Grissom.
Sara placed the evidence she had been carrying in the back of the SUV, almost as if she was on autopilot. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that Grissom was speaking to her, something about the evidence, cleaning up and Nick, but all she could think about was Grissom, kneeling in that grave, staying there after ordering Warrick from the hole, after Catherine had alerted everyone of the explosives beneath. Rationally, Sara knew why he had done it but she wasn’t feeling very rational at that moment and found that she was, in point of fact, quickly becoming irrational.
“Okay,” Grissom began as he shut the rear doors, “ready to-“
Sara smacking his arm angrily halted any words Grissom had had to say, his blue eyes going wide with wonder and worry. “Sara?”
At the sound of his voice, a torrent of bottled up emotion came raging out as Sara shoved him angrily away. “How could you,” she demanded, tears slipping unwanted from her troubled eyes.
“Wha?”
“How could you?” Sara said through gritted teeth. “How could you get in that hole? How could you put yourself in that kind of danger?” She raged, shoving him with each question, and hitting him the chest with the last.
Grissom took Sara’s wrist gently in his hands, holding them to his chest. His blue eyes, almost black in the darkness, took Sara’s tearstained face in with worry and wonder, not really understanding her reaction.
“Sara, honey, I had to,” he explained, holding her near as she half-heartedly struggled to free herself. “Yes,” he said to her feebly shaking head. “Nicky would have blown himself up. He wasn’t thinking straight. He needed someone to be there with him, to know he wasn’t alone anymore, that we were getting him out, not leaving him behind.”
Sara continued to shake her head weakly, not knowing why she was resisting Grissom’s logic. Because, somewhere deep down she knew he was right, but right didn’t take away the staggering fear she had felt, that still clung to her like some cold, wet shroud. Logic didn’t make the visions of Grissom dead, torn to bloody pieces by Walter Gordon’s bombs, go away. Right didn’t take away the panic she felt when she had thought she had lost him.
Memories of her father’s bloody body flashed across her mind’s eye. The crushing grief of Jamie’s loss reminding Sara of what she could have lost that day.
“I could have lost you,” she whispered brokenly, her forehead slowly coming to rest at the crook of his neck.
Grissom felt her warm tears against his neck, felt the tremors that sporadically coursed through her frame and without thought of being out in the open, wrapped his arms around Sara, pulling her close.
“Honey,” he whispered near her ear, placing a tender kiss at her temple. “I’m right here with you,” he told her before taking her head in his hands and looking into her eyes.
Sara made a sound between a sniffle and a hiccup before she grabbed his jacket in a two fisted grip and pulled him forward. Taking his lips with her own, Sara kissed Grissom desperately, passionately. The feel of his lips on hers, warm and alive, of his strong hands at her hips gripping her, holding her was the validation that Sara’s overwrought mind and fear plagued heart needed.
He’s alive! Her mind and heart sang as her hands loosened their grip on his jacket to slide up and over his chest to clasp behind his neck. He’s alive.
It was risky what they were doing, kissing out in the open, but Grissom sensed that Sara needed this affirmation of his well being and if he was willing to search his own heart, he would find that he needed her right where she was, in his arms. With a step back and a slow twirl, Grissom was able to place Sara up against the Tahoe, near the rear tire. The truck would obscure them from the officers guarding the crime scene should they venture out of their patrol car but they were wide open should anyone come driving down the path that lead from the main road. Still, it was risk both of them were willing to take.
The desperate press of lips had slowed, only slightly, to a more hungry slide of lips as tongues delved and danced, tasting one another and life all at once. Two sets of hearts hammered, no longer by fear, but by a measure far stronger and lasting as the two secret lovers parted imperceptibly, gasping much needed air.
“Gil,” Sara whispered, a hand coming up to hold his cheek, her thumb tracing his lower lip. “I love you,” she told him for the first time in ten years, unable to hold back the words, unwilling to deny the emotion.
In the darkness that precedes the dawn, Grissom’s eyes shone like water under a desert moon; sparkling diamonds in an inky blackness, but did not give away the torrent of emotions that erupted from within. Fear, joy, uncertainty, love swelled within his heart. His mind couldn’t seem to find a nice, safe cubby hole to place Sara’s declaration in, and rather than attempt to stammer some ridiculous statement about danger evoking highly emotional responses; Grissom swooped down, his palms lovingly cupping her face as he kissed her with every ounce of emotion he had.
When they parted, Sara sighed happily. She hadn’t expected Grissom to return her heartfelt statement. Sara had become quite used to waiting for Grissom. Intelligently speaking, Grissom ran circles around most and kept someone as smart as Sara on her toes but emotionally it was always a game of catch up for Grissom. It could be frustrating at times, sometimes bordering on painful, but at that moment, having him alive and well in her arms Sara just didn’t care. She’d always wait for her one and only.