A/N: Since we aren't allowed songfics anymore, I haven't included any lyrics, but I did just want to say that this story was inspired by Mandy Moore's "Cry," which was on the radio the other day.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI -obviously. Who do you take me for?
Cry
"Have you seen Grissom?" Sara snapped out, glaring at Greg as though he were the source of all her problems.
"What? No," he responded, indignation evident in his voice.
Without apologizing, she swept out of the room, her body running on pure adrenaline.
Their case involved the torture and murder of four little boys, brothers, and though Grissom hadn't given anything away voluntarily since this had all started Sara could still see his pain in every movement.
At first, she had wanted to fix it; had wanted to take it away and make it so everything was back to normal, and Grissom was the sane one who could block things out, and she the emotional one who got too involved. It hadn't happened, though, and Grissom had rejected all of her attempts to get him to open up as the case stretched into a week and only gotten worse.
It looked as though their only suspect would walk for lack of evidence. When they had come to the realization of the probable identity of the killer, Grissom had almost stopped breathing as he sat in stunned silence.
At the crime scene that first night, his heart had broken for the mother of the four boys and he had, against his better judgement, tried to comfort her in the best way he knew how; allowing her information, and the promise that they would get the person who had done this to her sons. For the first time in a long time, he had tried to be more like Nick and think of the people instead of just the evidence. It had backfired on him; he felt betrayed by this mother, who had feigned devastation at her sons' deaths yet had been responsible. Sara had tried in vain to stop him as he strode out of the building and away.
Now, as she searched for her devastated supervisor, Sara felt her own anger coming to the surface. Did he think he was the only one who had been fooled by the mother's act? Did he think that those four little boys meant something only to him? Did he think he was the only one who had the right to feel this way?
And yet even as she thought those things, she knew her anger was merely a way to protect herself from feeling her own pain.
Shaking her head to clear it, she tried his cell for the eighth time since he had stormed off; no answer, again. Maybe he was back at the crime scene.
Realizing that was probably the case, she made her way to the parking lot, shoving her phone into her pocket as she went. It was then that she caught sight of Grissom's parking spot; it was occupied by his vehicle.
"Damn you, Grissom!" she muttered.
He was still here somewhere. Rolling her eyes heavenwards, she took a breath to calm herself. "Where the hell are you?"
She had already searched the lab; even the roof. Where else was there to look?
A few seconds later, she threw up a prayer to God and spun on her heel, striding around the side of the building until she was out of sight of the parking lot and sliding in between the dumpsters and trash cans. She made her way past them to the edge of the building. It was just the sort of place he would hide; a place where no one ever came, and certainly a place that no one would ever think to look.
"Grissom?"
And there he was, standing against the hard, cold wall, his head tilted back as he stared at the grey morning sky.
"Grissom!"
For a moment it was as though he hadn't heard her, and then he turned lethargically to regard her with a blank gaze. It was as though he didn't even register the wetness on his cheeks; the blurring of the images before his eyes.
"Sara," he said hoarsely. There was no surprise; just utter defeat and loss.
"Hey," she replied softly, waving a bit as she came forward, all her anger draining away at this unexpected sight. "I was looking for you."
He glanced away, then, back at the empty sky. "Mm." Another tear slipped from his eye, trailing down his cheek, and as though it had a will of her own her hand reached out to brush it away. He flinched; the haunted quality hanging about him complemented his haggard appearance perfectly.
"Grissom…"
Pain ignited in his eyes again. His body trembled as he shook his head. "Go away, Sara," he whispered, voice cracking.
Her reply was short and simple, leaving no room for interpretation. "No."
It was as though the word had been the battering ram, landing a well-placed hit on his already damaged walls; the final force that broke them. The last barrier fell away and as she tugged at him gently he all but fell into her arms, his body racked with sobs.
In that instant she knew him; knew him the way she hadn't in over ten years of classes and seminars and cases; knew him the way she had always wanted to know him but had never been able to.
"Shhh," she whispered, rocking him gently, marvelling at how vulnerable he was; how much pain he held within him.
He clung to her, his arms wrapped tightly around body, his face pressed to her neck; clung to her for dear life, and knew that she knew.
"Shhh," she whispered again, "Shhh. It's all right, baby. It's all right."
Seconds, or minutes, or hours later neither knew, the tears finally subsided, yet still they held on; still they rocked.
The grey sky above them remained, dark and cold, and down below Grissom felt his body go limp with exhaustion, physical and emotional. Sara felt the change, and shifted, leaning against the wall to support his weight as he pressed against her heavily.
"It's all right, baby," she reassured, "It's going to be all right."
And for one long moment as they stood there holding each other tightly in that deserted corner of the world, they both knew everything would be all right.
The End