A/N: So this fic was meant to be a quick one written at the request of ZenBridge around Christmas time…. Turns out it's taken on a life of it's own. I came out of retirement to write this, and am glad I did… for no other reason then the admin staff at YTDAW are top notch, and I'm glad to have the opportunity to produce something for them…so everyone else can enjoy, but this one is for Zen.
To take arms against a sea of troubles
Chapter 1
The sun beat down on the well dressed lawyer. Pulling at his collar he listened to his frustrated client over the phone and shook his head. "I can't postpone the trial any longer Mark. Delaying an obstruction of justice charge for a year is an obstruction all on its own," he explained to the man as he sat heavily in his BMW.
"I just need one more month Larry," the client explained.
Apprehension grew in the pit of Larry Crawford's stomach. He got paid well to defend some shady individuals, but the man on the other line was shady on an entirely different level. "One more month to do what exactly?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
"I'm just working on some research, get me one more month," he demanded.
Starting his car, Crawford inhaled deeply. "I'll do what I can Thayer," he promised and flipped his phone shut.
--//--
Sara planted her hand on the door frame of Grissom's office, and swung into view. "Hey," she said, offering the sexiest smile she could muster.
The paper Grissom had been concentrating on wilted out of his hand when he caught sight of his secret girlfriend. "You're unusually…jovial…this morning," he commented, holding back his actual thoughts.
Leaning back, Sara looked down the hallway in both directions. Satisfied they were alone she moved into the sanctuary of the office. "Well, all my cases are closed, and my boyfriend owes me a favor," she told him suggestively.
Removing his glasses, he tried to hide the smirk that was creeping onto his face. "What kind of favor?" he asked conspiratorially.
The solitude gave Sara a daring level of boldness. "The kind of favor that requires candles, wine, an uninterrupted evening, and very—" she stopped mid sentence, and checked behind her. Still satisfied no one was in ear shot she looked back at the man whose entire attention was focused on her. "Very little clothing," she explained barely audible.
Grissom swallowed hard. He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks, and he suddenly wished he still had a beard. "What…well…ah," he cleared his throat, and tried again. "Um, well, why?"
Holding up an envelope, she smiled. "I ran into Ecklie. He's on the warpath, and was looking for you. He wanted you to look at this," she explained and handed the mysterious letter to her boss. "I told him I would hand deliver it."
Eyeing the offered envelope he still felt off balance. "You spared me from having to talk to Ecklie, so I owe you this…favor?" he finally asked taking the letter.
"Well that and I scored the spider documentary from the pathology guys so you can watch it tonight before the trial," Sara elaborated.
Confusion washed over Grissom. "I was going to pick up the tape before I headed home. Why do I owe you a favor for that?"
"Because you're going to watch it tonight, after you promised me we could rent a movie," she revealed.
Smiling, he opened the envelope. "You're in luck. Now we have a video we can watch. We won't have to rent one," he said glancing up to catch her reaction.
"Not a chance. You know how I feel about spiders," she told him, but grew concerned when a grimace appeared on his face. "What?" she asked moving around the desk to read over his shoulder.
"Thayer's trial has been postponed another month," he said in disgust.
"Postponed again? How does he get away with that? An obstruction of justice charge is usually open and shut, and even more air tight when the suspect hangs himself in front of a room full of law enforcement and court officials.
Grissom slumped in his seat. "He's been out on bail this entire time," he said pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Gris don't think about him. He's just trying to stay out of jail for as long as he can. An obstruction of justice charge like his could get him 10 years," Sara explained placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Grissom covered her hand with his. "He blamed me Sara, and he was willing to manipulate the evidence and perjure himself to let a killer go free. I can't help but think of what else he would be willing to do," he explained.
'Pick your battles,' Sara told herself. She squeezed his shoulder, and put some space between them. There were very specific rules they had placed on themselves at work, and she had broken one, four, and six. Still, she couldn't help herself, she felt compelled to take one last swipe at him. "I better go before I break rule ten," she told him.
Instantly the red returned to his face, and he was once again speechless. 'How does she do that to me?' he asked himself. "Are you heading home?" he asked her.
Smiling at his words, she moved to the safety of the doorway. "No, I have to go to my apartment for a little bit. I'll call," she explained and slipped away.
--//--
Pulling into her parking lot, Sara began to think about how empty she felt the mornings she came to her apartment. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept there, but they decided to keep it for appearances.
Opening her door, she let the morning breeze flow through the vehicle. Sara threw her cell phone in her gym bag, and turned to get out, but came face to face with the barrel of a gun.
Frozen for a moment, her mind processed the weapon. Colt 45. It would leave an impressive exit wound. The passenger window was up, so it would all be contained in the car. These thoughts flew through her mind in an instant, and then her focus shifted to the person holding the hand gun.
Mark Thayer grinned. "Where's your gun?" he asked calmly.
"You really don't want to do this," she told him calmly.
"Shut up!" he shouted causing her to jump slightly. Pressing the cold metal against her forehead, his entire body tensed. "I asked you where your gun was!"
Pulling back, Sara tried to calculate the odds of her wrestling the gun away from the maniac in front of her. They weren't good, and she didn't want to give up her sig. "In my gym bag," she finally told him, hoping he would be content just knowing it wasn't on her.
"Good. Throw the bag in the back seat," he demanded. "Slowly."
Complying, she tried to place it within reach of the driver's seat. "Ok, now what?" a thread of indignation laced her words.
"Give me your keys," he said, holding out his hand and waited for the CSI to place them in his hand. "Good, now get out of the car."
Slowly, Sara moved out of the vehicle, and scanned her surroundings. Her hopes of seeing anyone who could get help were dashed when she noted the desolation. Day shift workers were gone, second shift was still sleeping, and only crazy people worked third shift. Apparently she was the only crazy person living in her apartment complex.
"Move around to the passenger side and get in," Thayer ordered. Once she was seated again, and he was satisfied he had the upper hand, but knew she was merely biding her time. In one swift movement, he brought the butt of the gun down on her head.
--//--
Vaguely aware of her surroundings, Sara attempted to open her eyes. Her vision was blurred and a pain her head made it impossible to focus.
"Wake up," a strange voice commanded.
Trying to comply, she found she could open only one eye all the way. Mark Thayer's face filled her view, and a groan escaped her mouth.
"Now. You're going to help me," he informed her as if asking to borrow a cup of sugar.
Shifting slightly, Sara discovered she was pinned beneath the man, and anger grew within her. "Go to hell," she spat out and heard a click.
"That was perfect. Thank you," Thayer told her and suddenly jabbed a needle into her arm.
Sara felt the pin prick, and the cold liquid burned through her veins.
"Agelenopsis aperta venom. It took me a year, but I perfected the paralytic effects of the funnel web spider," Thayer's words drifted to Sara's consciousness.
She tried to struggle against him, but the toxin was already taking affect. She couldn't feel her fingers, and her arms were starting to tingle.
"Don't worry. You'll wake up in about fifteen hours, but by that time, Gil Grissom's world will be falling apart around him…"
The fog that had surrounded Sara finally engulfed her.
--//--
Grissom lit the last candle, and quickly blew out the match. Stepping back he took a moment to admire his handiwork. The table was set, the pinot grigio was chilling on ice, and the egg plant parmesan was almost done. Now all he needed was Sara Sidle. Glancing at his watch he couldn't understand what was keeping her.
On cue his cell phone rang. Without looking at the caller id, he flipped open the phone. "Are you going to cash in on your favor, or will I be enjoying the candle light alone?" he asked.
"You know Gris. I hardly know you," Greg said, making no attempt to hide his amusement despite the current situation.
Cursing his carelessness, he exhaled sharply. "Greg what do you need?"
Silence greeted him.
"Greg?" Grissom tried again.
"Boss you need to come in right now," the young man told him.
The older CSI picked up on the anxiety level, and his concern kicked in. "What's going on?"
"We just need you to come in…is Sara with you?"
"Why would Sara be with me?" he tired to remain neutral for Sara's sake.
"No reason. We were just… I was just hoping."
"Greg what's going on?" Grissom finally asked, waiting for his subordinate to get to the point.
"The FBI are here, and they're saying Sara killed a man this morning."
--//--
"Hi. You've reached 555-8942. Leave a message after the beep."
Grissom swerved to get around a slow moving vehicle while he waited for the beep. He had left messages on Sara's work cell, personal cell, and apartment voicemail. He knew it was a futile effort to try again, even a little irrational, but he didn't know what else to do.
"Sara. I really need you to call my personal cell phone when you get this message," he pleaded as he pulled into her apartment complex parking lot. He nearly dropped the phone when he saw the fury of activity and black blazers with FBI written on the back with bold yellow letters.
He quickly scanned for Sara's car. Not seeing it, he slowly turned around, hoping not to be seen, and headed for the office.
--//--
The car had barely stopped before Grissom's feet hit the ground and he was running to the entrance of the crime lab. Plowing through the glass doors, he moved toward the break room, but stopped short when he realized the conference room was packed with people.
"You gotta help me. She's crazy," a man muttered hysterically.
"Who's going to hurt you sir?" the recorded voice of an FBI operator asked calmly.
"Sara Sidle. She's going to kill me!"
"Mr. Butler, let me get your case agent—"
"No! She's here now. She's going to kill me!" the man screamed over the phone.
A loud crash interrupted the plea.
"Mr. Butler. Mr. Butler are you ok?" the voice of the once calm operator rose slightly.
"Get her away from me!"
"Go to hell," Sara's voice echoed in the conference room.
Sounds of a struggle could be heard for several minutes before the resounding bang of a gunshot and the thud of a body hitting the floor made everyone in the room hold their breaths.
Grissom strained his ears, and listened to the rustle of movement. He mentally noted the absence of heavy breathing that would be likely after such a struggle. He didn't believe for a minute Sara was guilty of murder. She was clearly being framed, and he needed to find the evidence to prove it.
"We found Sara Sidle's blood at the crime scene, dark brown hair was found in the victim's fist, and her fingerprints were on the murder weapon," a young agent explained, flipping through evidence slides. "We need your lab's help to analyze the hair samples, and the voice record."
"It was her voice," Ecklie helpfully supplied.
Never in his life had Gil Grissom wanted to sucker punch a man more. He scanned the room, and focused on Catherine.
"Why did the victim call the FBI?" the blonde asked, maintaining eye contact with her supervisor.
Agent Rick Culpepper chose that moment to make his presence known. "Craig Butler was an informant of ours, but had been recently arrest for domestic violence. We had the charges dropped," the smug man explained matter of factly. "CSI Sidle was the lead criminalist on the case."
Every CSI in the room remember the result of the Butler case. No one would explain why the case was dropped, and Mrs. Butler was moved into a protective group home. Sara had made it clear to the entire building how she felt about the situation.
The little Grissom had heard was scaring the hell out of him. If he didn't know Sara like he did, the evidence would cause him to begin to doubt her innocence, and he didn't trust Culpepper to do anything but do what would make him look like the hero.
"When was the call made?" Nick asked hesitantly.
The younger agent cleared his throat. "The call came in at 10:00 a.m. We had agents on the scene by 10:30. The blood samples were collected and were run against your in house database. We issued a warrant for Sara Sidle's arrest at 2:00. We've been searching for her since that time," he told the group. "We'll be interviewing each of you this evening, and we're asking anyone who has contact with CSI Sidle to try to talk her in and tell us immediately."
A general sense of disbelief washed over the room. Grissom couldn't take it any longer. "It sounds like you've tried her already and found her guilty," the intensity of his voice made those who knew him shift uncomfortably.
Ecklie stepped in. "We want to bring her in, and question her—"
"—question her? Conrad, they have a warrant for her arrest! They aren't going to bring her in; they're going to arrest her. As soon as that happens her career is over," all sense of composure was quickly fading. He had never felt so helpless.
"Grissom, we'll talk about this later. The FBI is here to brief us voluntarily. They can proceed with or without our help," Ecklie told him sternly.
"Everyone, we understand this is difficult for you," the Culpepper stepped in again. "If Ms. Sidle comes in on her own, we won't arrest her. We're interested in the truth as much as you are."
Silence hung in the air. Sides were being taken. It was clear where the lines were drawn, but the CSI's were in the minority.
Taking a deep breath, Grissom re-approached. "We would like to examine all the evidence," he explained as he studied the FBI agents.
"Agent Kramer will coordinate with you," the older agent replied. "Everyone else will meet with each other's counterparts, and we'll meet back here in three hours unless we have a lead."
Grissom watched as the room cleared, and his team gathered the evidence from the agents. Sensing Ecklie's approach, he turned to face what was coming.
"Gil, I'm putting a day shift CSI on the case with you," putting a hand up to stop the protest he knew what was coming, he continued, "They'll be there to observe only. I'm going to cover your ass even if you don't know it needs to be covered. This all needs to be above the board if you expect to help Sidle."
"I understand," Grissom was surprised to see genuine concern on the face of Conrad Ecklie. Unwilling to chalk it up to anything but concern for his reputation, Grissom merely nodded, and waited for his team to get all they needed to clear Sara.
TBC