Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.
How the ship sailed
Chapter 1 – Sara
The rain was pelting down, when Sara stepped out of her car. The weather as dark as her mood. God, when she looked back at what happened at the mental hospital today, she almost felt like drowning in this rain. In the violent flood of water as it enveloped her when she ran over to her apartment door. When she got inside she hurriedly closed the door behind her, unconsciously leaning against it for support. As she slid down the door to park herself on the hardwood floor of her apartment, sudden and violent throbs overtook her. Creating her own little torrential rain. The sobs wracked her slim form as she recalled the attack by Adam Trent. The bad foreboding she had felt as soon as he had entered the nurse's station, her anger when he approached her and she had grabbed the syringe and tried to stab him with it and then the paralyzing fear as he held her at knife-point. No, not knife-point, shard-point. Damn, if it wasn't so horrible it could be funny. And then what fucked her up the most was when she looked up into Grissom's eyes…
What she saw there was absolute fear. Fear for her safety, her well-being. And when she dared to delve further, she thought she saw love in those amazing blue orbs that never ceased to amaze her with their piercing beauty. Eyes that often appeared in her dreams. But even in the raunchiest of her dreams, she had never seen fear in his eyes. Love, lust, desire, passion and sometimes a little violence. But never fear, not in her fearless Grissom. And it had left her rattled as much as the attack itself had. And when she had finally broken free of Adam's grasp on her, she had ran to safety, to the closest freedom allowed to her on the ward. The window, showing the light of the outside world where most people were sane, though some of them a little crazy. But not as crazy as in this horrid institution that reminded her so much of the home her mother stayed at after she had killed her father. And when Grissom had approached her after the attack, she would have given anything to just be held by him. To feel those strong arms around her to comfort her. To give her both emotional and physical support. But al he had done was keep his distance and Sara could have kicked his butt for that.
She slowly got up from the floor, her body waisted from the emotional cry and drained from the long hours at work. Her hands were shaking from exhaustion and she made her way over to the small kitchen area in her apartment. She put on the kettle to make herself some chamomile tea, in a futile attempt to find calm in the whirling sea of her emotions.