TITLE:
Sinking and RisingAUTHOR: Anansay
SUMMARY: An experiment gives rise to new beginnings.
RATING: G (Gah! What have I risen to? G)
SPOILERS: None.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Response to an Unbound Challenge wherein the first and last lines are provided and the in-between lines must be filled in. Must not exceed 1000 words, though it's a soft limit.
June 7, 2004
Sitting tied up in a car sinking to the bottom of Lake Mead wasn't quite how Sara had planned to spend her day off. But that's exactly what she found herself doing.
Grissom grinned at her from his safe perch on the beach, surrounded by a gaggle of tightly clad divers ready to "rescue" her at a flick of his hand. As the water began covering the windshield and blurring her vision, she began the rehearsed struggle against the binds, imitating how the victim could have survived the car going under, assuming she'd only been tied, like the suspect claimed, and not drugged, like the tox screen said.
Mild panic began to set in as the light slowly disappeared and the small cramped space inside the car began its merciless inward spiral. Her hands were still bound, her feet tied securely to the underside of the seat. Her training set in slowly and she began breathing exercises that slowed her heart and increased her thinking. She twisted and squeezed her hands through the bindings and finally she was free and then the car bumped and she knew it had hit bottom. Murky waters surrounded her, tiny swaying of weeds and fish too curious for their own good swam past her. The silence descended and for a moment it was nice, peaceful. Everything else vanished in the somber gloom of Lake Mead and Sara had a sudden grasp of what it must be to die by drowning. The interminable silence and the cold. Being alone and floating aimlessly toward nothing. No more pain, no more anguish. No more questions and no more confusion.
For a moment she considered staying right where she was and letting nature take over, do its business as only it knew how to do it.
It was a thought, fleeting but there. And then it was gone and her will exerted itself with a vengeance as she began struggling with the door. It wouldn't budge. Pressurized from the outside, she was entombed at the bottom of Lake Mead.
Now the panic returned and Sara hoped that Grissom didn't dislike her too much that day.
She glanced around, looking for anything to use as a pry bar. Her chest began to hurt, to press in and she fought for every breath.
Suddenly there was a bang and she spun around.
A face in the window, masked with a tube from the mouth. A hand splayed against the glass, banging, pointing to the far side of the car. She understood and stayed away just as the door was pried open and the water came rushing in, flattening her against the other side. She lost her breath in the influx and then lost her bearings. Pushing against everything she fought for her freedom, fought for air. A hand took her wrist and pulled and she pulled back, not to be dragged down.
It pulled again harder, bracing. Her head bumped against the car and then she was out. Something hard against her lips, pushing through. She turned away. It came back, fingers this time prying her lips apart and the thing was in and air was in.
Her eyes opened and another pair of smiling eyes greeted her. A hand by his head pointed up and she was being pulled up.
Seeing another break through the surface of water would always have that exultant quality to it. But nothing compared to doing it yourself, feeling the air hit your face and then burn its way down to the lungs. Sara bobbed a few times, clinging to the divers as they hauled her toward shore.
She clawed at the sand, gasping and spitting and coughing. Two feet came into view and then a crotch. She looked up and into Grissom's smiling, worried and apologetic eyes.
"You made it," he said softly and then sat down beside her as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
"Yeah," she gasped. Her own survival slipped away, replaced by the entire reason for her near-death experience and she looked up again, her eyes bright. "I got out!" she panted, "I got out. Only... I just couldn't get out of the car..."
"Yeah," he said. "I counted thirty seconds and sent them after you."
"Couldn't have waited another five, huh?" she grinned.
"I know you like a challenge," he smirked in return.
Sara sat up straighter. "I wasn't drugged and I got out. Andrea was still tied. She was drugged. The bastard." Sand flew up as her hand came down.
Grissom's hand landed on hers. She met his eyes. "We got him, Sara. He's not getting away."
She stared at him and slowly grinned. "He's going down."
"For a long time."
At any other time, under any other circumstances it would have been romantic, them sitting on the sand, his hand on hers. At this time it was merely something friendly, a rediscovering of something long hidden and buried under mountains of confusion and untold truths.
But everything has a beginning, even if it's a re-beginning. Sara's smile grew and her eyes began to twinkle as she moved her fingers beneath his. His hand stayed on hers. And her smile returned. Her smile--her beautiful, beautiful smile.