Author's Notes: My stories are my toys. I don't play with just one at a time; I go from toy to toy, so I never get tired of any of them. See what I mean? But on that note, I have to give special thanks to PhDelicious. Not only does she help me come up with titles when I'm drawing a blank, she reminds me when it's time to take something out of my toy box and play with it. I also want to thank Helga for her Teutonic encouragement. And of course, thanks to you for taking another ride.
Lines in the Sand
by Kristen Elizabeth
When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. --Victor Frankl
Prologue
The phone rang three times before Grissom could be bothered to pick it up. He reached for the receiver without taking his eyes off his laptop's screen. An entomologist out of Berlin had published a new study on how global temperature changes could drastically affect insect populations, and although he suspected it was mostly conjecture, the findings were quite intriguing.
"Grissom," he answered, still reading.
"Gil." There was a lot of static and background noise masking the man's voice, so he was grateful when the caller added, "It's Jim."
He frowned at the screen. "Jim, you sound like you're in Baghdad." In the middle of the pause that followed, Grissom could hear people shouting. "Where are you?"
"Gil," Brass started again. "The first thing I want you to know is that Sara is okay."
Every part of his body froze.
"But there's been a fire," his friend went on. "At your house."
The light from the computer screen burned his eyes as he stared at it without blinking. "A fire?" he repeated.
"Yeah. They've got it mostly out. But Gil…" Brass stopped.
He choked out the next word. "Mallory?"
"I don't know," the other man sighed. "The paramedics took them both to Desert Palm…"
Grissom didn't stick around to hear the rest. Without even bothering to shut down his laptop, he grabbed his coat and his keys and tore out of the lab.
He found his wife exactly where the nurse told him she would be. She was standing in profile in the middle of a long corridor, looking through the glass panels of a set of double doors. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her torso, and as he got closer, he could see that her clothes were dusted with ashes.
"Sara!" Even when he called her name and started running to her, she didn't acknowledge him. "Honey…" He reached her, and after a cursory examination for any visible injuries, he gathered her up into his arms.
She smelled like charred wood; her face was smudged all over with soot. But she was warm and alive. He buried his face in her hair, and offered up thanks to whichever force in the universe had kept her safe.
She didn't return the embrace. When he pulled back, he saw that she wasn't even looking at him. Her attention had returned to whatever lay beyond the glass windows.
Grissom followed her gaze. Inside the trauma room, a team of doctors huddled around something very small. Cold dread pooled into his stomach.
"There was a minute when she wasn't breathing," Sara said. Her tone was too calm, too even. "The smoke…I couldn't get to her in time."
One of the doctors moved, and he caught a glimpse of a tiny, fragile body. His one month-old daughter.
His knees threatened to give out from under him, but Sara's fingers had curled around his sleeves for support. If he lost control, she would fall, too. Taking great breaths, Grissom remained steady. "What happened, Sara?"
His wife slowly shook her head, her eyes never leaving their daughter. "I fell asleep reading. The alarm woke me up." Her shoulders began to shake. "I couldn't breathe. She wasn't breathing. Oh god…" Sara looked at him for the first time, and there was no mistaking the sheer terror of her expression.
"What?" he asked, trying to keep his panic at bay.
She blinked rapidly. "Earlier tonight…I got a phone call. They just hung up."
Grissom ran his tongue over his lips. "Honey, let's not jump to any…"
One half of the door swung open just then, and a doctor in blue scrubs stepped out. "Mr. and Mrs. Grissom?"
"Yes," Grissom replied hoarsely. "How…how is she?"
"Smoke inhalation is nothing to be taken lightly, especially with an infant's delicate lungs. We did have to intubate her." Sara's grip on his sleeve tightened. "She's not completely out of the woods, but she's responding well to the oxygen. We're fairly confident that within the next six hours, she'll be breathing on her own. And probably very unhappy with the whole world." He smiled. "She's a tough little girl."
"Can we see her?" Sara whispered.
"We're going to take her up to the PICU, but once she's settled up there, of course. We can even arrange for you both to stay with her through the night." The doctor looked at them. "Do you have any other questions?"
Grissom answered for them both. "Not right now. Thank you."
With a nod, the doctor headed back into the room.
A moment passed. "Sara," Grissom finally said. But when she looked at him, he almost recoiled. Her fear had morphed into something much more deadly. "We don't know anything for sure yet." He swallowed. "The house is old. The wiring could be faulty, or…"
She cut him off. "They knew I was home. And wherever I am, Mallory is, too. This wasn't an accident. And you know it."
"Honey…"
"No!" Her voice echoed down the sterile hallway. "You promised me!" She pointed a shaky finger at him. "You swore it would be all right! That nothing was going to happen to me…and nothing was going to happen to her!" Tears leaked from her eyes, clearing tracks down her sooty cheeks. "But our daughter is lying in there, hooked up to a machine to keep breathing…" She raised the back of her hand to her mouth like she might be sick. "You promised, Gil."
Grissom swallowed heavily. "I never thought this would happen."
"Yeah, well…you thought wrong." She paused to collect herself. "When she's better, I'm not taking her back to that house. If there's anything left of it, that is."
"I'll go wherever you want. Wherever you feel safe, I'll…"
She interrupted him once again. "No." Their eyes met. "I'm sorry, but until this really is over…we can't be where you are."
"You're upset, honey. I know. I'm scared, too," he said once her words had sunk in. "But give me a chance to fix this. Please."
"I already have a place in mind." He opened his mouth, but Sara shook her head. "I won't tell you. So don't ask."
Grissom stared at the woman he loved. "Don't do this. Don't take my daughter away from me."
"Find out who wants us dead." She tucked her hands under her arms. "When they're in jail…we'll come home."
The doors opened again as the doctors pushed their daughter's gurney out of the trauma room, heading for the elevators. They both froze at the sight of her little body lying prostrate, a tube protruding from her mouth. It took every ounce of Grissom's self-control to keep from reaching out for his baby girl. As the team passed by, the doctor who'd spoken to them earlier gestured for them to follow.
Sara started walking backwards, still looking at Grissom as she moved further away. "I love you," she told him. "But I have to keep her safe. And being with you…it's not safe anymore."
"Sara, I…"
But she had already slipped into the elevator with Mallory and the doctors. The metal doors slid shut, leaving him behind.
To Be Continued