Sara woke up drenched in cold sweat to the sound of her cell phone
ringing. For some reason she felt and almost overwhelming sense of
dread, but brushed it off as the aftermath of her nightmare. She
found herself remembering exact details, knowing that it was the
same dram that she had been having for some time now. Something
about Las Vegas-again.
Wasn't that how it always was? Try your hardest to forget something but somewhere in the back of your mind the image of it will haunt you.
The dream had been the same as last night's. She had been working in Vegas, overtime no doubt, when she happened to pass the morgue. She felt compelled to enter. There was one trolley waiting within a few steps of the door. Slowly, she reached out a hand toward the top of the sheet and peeled it down a few inches. Even though every night she knew who it was going to be it still came as a shock. She gasped and dropped the sheet as Grissom's blank stare sought her face. A cold, unblinking stare, not seeing anything before it. His skin was a pasty white except for the thin trails of electric blue vein peeking through. Tears obscured her vision until everything was dark.
Sara shuddered as the effects of the dream began to take their toll. She reached hesitantly towards the phone, as it if might come alive and remove the offending object from her wrist.
"Sidle?" She asked uncertainly.
"Hey.(sniff)"
"Grissom?"
A thousand scattered thoughts raced through her mind.
Why was he calling her at.2:34 in the morning? And it sounded as though he were crying. Was this really Grissom? The same Grissom that refused point blank to show any emotion whatsoever?
"I'm sorry, did I.wake you up? I'll ring back later?" His voice rose at
the end of his sentence making it appear that he had asked a question.
"No, you stay right there, "She replied, firm, yet not harsh enough to
appear angry, "Where are you anyway?
"Airport." He managed to choke out, before sniffing back another
onslaught of tears.
"What the hell are you doing in San Francisco?" She never waited for a reply. "I'm coming to get get you ok?
Wasn't that how it always was? Try your hardest to forget something but somewhere in the back of your mind the image of it will haunt you.
The dream had been the same as last night's. She had been working in Vegas, overtime no doubt, when she happened to pass the morgue. She felt compelled to enter. There was one trolley waiting within a few steps of the door. Slowly, she reached out a hand toward the top of the sheet and peeled it down a few inches. Even though every night she knew who it was going to be it still came as a shock. She gasped and dropped the sheet as Grissom's blank stare sought her face. A cold, unblinking stare, not seeing anything before it. His skin was a pasty white except for the thin trails of electric blue vein peeking through. Tears obscured her vision until everything was dark.
Sara shuddered as the effects of the dream began to take their toll. She reached hesitantly towards the phone, as it if might come alive and remove the offending object from her wrist.
"Sidle?" She asked uncertainly.
"Hey.(sniff)"
"Grissom?"
A thousand scattered thoughts raced through her mind.
Why was he calling her at.2:34 in the morning? And it sounded as though he were crying. Was this really Grissom? The same Grissom that refused point blank to show any emotion whatsoever?
"I'm sorry, did I.wake you up? I'll ring back later?" His voice rose at
the end of his sentence making it appear that he had asked a question.
"No, you stay right there, "She replied, firm, yet not harsh enough to
appear angry, "Where are you anyway?
"Airport." He managed to choke out, before sniffing back another
onslaught of tears.
"What the hell are you doing in San Francisco?" She never waited for a reply. "I'm coming to get get you ok?