Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them. Wish I did, but I don't. Que Sera Sera.
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No one has seen nor heard from her in days, which in and of itself is very out of the ordinary. Usually she's the first one in and the last one out, but for three days she's gone missing. We've, that is, several of the lab personnel, tried to contact her countless times and no one has gotten any sort of response. I know she screens her calls and as I pull up in front of her apartment and park my car, I wonder if I'd have any better luck than Nicky or Warrick did. However, I do have one advantage though; a house key. A few months back she went out of town and asked me to bring in the mail and water Robert, her plant. Walking up the stone path to the landing outside her door, I raise my balled up fist and knock a few times; nothing. I knock again and then call out.
"Sar, its Jim. I'm coming in."
I pull out the key and slowly open the door to see the state of things. The place is a complete and total mess, not like last time I was here. Now, there are empty beer bottles, unwashed dishes and a general slovenly appearance to the place. Then it was spotless, almost like no one ever stayed there for any length of time, but to see the place now its disturbing. Turning on the lights I can get a better look at the mess. I can see that at least the mail has been being brought in as there's something post marked the day before yesterday. Carefully and systematically, I walk through the small apartment looking everywhere she might be. She's not on the couch, nor on the love seat, so I go to her room and for all the covers on the bed, I can barely make her out. Her left foot sticking out from under the covers, she stirs a bit, then settles back in and resumes her soft snore.
What would her reaction to my being here be? Would she be upset? Would she turn her back to me? Maybe she's sick, in which case, she should be in hospital if she's been in bed this whole time. Carefully I approach the bed and gently sit beside her and watch her sleep for a few moments. God, she's beautiful, even when she's kind of pale like she is now. On the bedside table there is a sort of diary, that's that I assume it is. I pick it up an read the last entry which happens to be from yesterday, some time around 04:00hrs.
"Sometimes I wonder why I even try. I do my job and I do it well, but neither he nor anyone else ever seems to notice. I've been busting my ass ever since I got here and Its like I'm some sort of ghost. A ghost that collects evidence, processes it, catalogs it and solves the case. A very productive ghost, but a ghost nonetheless. The only one that's noticed, the only one that's said, "Hey, good job" or something like that is Jim. He's always there for me, even for piddly shit. He's a good man. I feel really bad about the "Ellie" situation, but there's nothing I can do about that. But even though he said I could come to him with anything, I don't think I could with this. This is too big, too scary and I'm afraid of what his or anyone else's reaction would be. I like to think of myself as a strong woman, able to handle myself and defend myself, but I just don't know what happened. I guess I was just caught off my guard. How could I allow that to happen? I'm "Stone Cold Sara", but I guess stone cold isn't what it used to be, not what I remember. Now I'm weak and I feel defeated, too ashamed to go into work and face the questions and constant badgering from the lab guys. Maybe I should just transfer to another department; start over new. New, where no one knows me, knows what happened or how I let myself and everyone else down.
I'm going back to bed now. If I get fired, I get fired. At this point I don't even care anymore. Maybe it would just be best if I came in when the guys weren't there and handed in my resignation. It'll be hard, no one said it wouldn't be, they're like my family……..but they just wouldn't understand."
I replace the book on the table and wonder what could be so bad, what could have happened that was so traumatic that it would make her want to leave us, leave me. Carefully, I lean in and gently peel back the covers to see a most horrific sight. She's got bruises all over her face and a very nasty gash above her left eye that looks like she stitched it herself. I wonder what the rest of her body looks like, and not in a bad way either. I carefully untuck the covers from her and gently pull them down her shoulders and back to see more bruises; bad bruises. They're a deep purple and some are so dark they look almost black. She needs to go to hospital. But after three days, if there are any skeletal fractures or broken bones they've most likely already began to fuse back together.
I cover her back up and gently brush the hair from her face to see more trauma. My God, what happened? Unable to keep quiet for any longer, I gently rub her shoulder that happens not to be bruised and whisper her name. It takes a few tries, but after a few moments she comes around and mumbles something.
"Sar, its me, Jim. Come on, Honey. Wake up." I say a bit more sternly than I would have liked
I see her swollen eyes flutter open and when she sees me she turns her head away and tells me to leave…………..yeah, as if. She needs medical attention and if I have to drag her out of bed, she's gonna get it.
"Sara, come on. I'm not going anywhere. Come on, look at me."
From under the covers I can hear her say that I wouldn't like what I'd see and to that I just replied that I didn't care. Not that I don't care about her or what happened, but that I don't care what she looks like. I think I've seen enough already to have a fairly accurate summation of what sorts of injuries she'd sustained. I reach over and gently try to right her and from the pressure of my hands, I guess, I can hear her wince, but she rolls anyway. Now I see what I hope are the extent of her injuries. Her torso is covered in more bruises and some scratches and around her neck is a big nasty bruise in the form of a hand print. From puffy lids, she looks at me and begins to cry. Without thinking, I kick off my shoes and lay beside her, holding her to me as her sobs become louder and more violent. She grabs hold of my waist and pulls me to her and we lay there for a while, she crying and me comforting her.
Its a few hours later and she's back asleep. I can hear and feel her breathing patterns have changed and there's a little whistle coming from her nose. Her grasp has loosened on me and as I carefully slide from under her arm, I ease out of bed and walk to the foot end of the bed, lifting the covers slowly and delicately. Her legs are pretty beat up and there's more damage all the way from her feet to her bare naked thighs. She's naked and under other circumstances I'd be having some very naughty thoughts, but as I stare at the marks on her upper thighs I can see that they go all the way up to her nether regions……..she was raped. At this realization my blood begins to boil and my knuckles turn white with fury. Whoever did this is gonna pay in a big, BIG way. I slowly let the covers fall back down onto her lower extremities and I'm frozen. How could this happen to my Sara. Not that she's mine in the relationship sense, but mine as in my friend, my sister, my co-worker and my charge. When I say that she's my charge, I mean that since she came out here to Vegas I sort of took it upon myself to keep an eye out for her, make sure she stays out of trouble. Evidently I failed in that department. However, I won't fail to find out who did this and make them pay in the worst way possible.
Coming back to her bedside, I drop to my knees and cross my arms on the bedside next to her, just looking, watching her sleep. I wonder if I should call the lab and explain things. But I can't because I don't even know what all happened. All I see is the aftermath. Besides, it would be wrong of me to do that. Sara has to do that in her own time. I will, however, play buffer. Placing a gentle kiss on her head wound, I leave the room, close the door behind me a bit and step into the breezeway to make a call.
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Sitting in his office, Grissom is looking over some case files when his cell rings. He pulls it from his pant's pocket and answers it.
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"Gil, this is Jim. I found Sara and she needs time off. How much vacation time does she have? Good, that'll be great. No, she's not. I can't say. No, its not that I won't say, its that I can't, because right now I'm not exactly sure what happened. Trust me, she needs this. I wouldn't advise that. You wouldn't be well received, nor would anyone else, I suspect. I have a key and let myself in. Anyway, let me go and she'll be back when her time is up. Me? Most likely not, but probably tomorrow or the day after. Ok."
Stepping back inside, I return to the bedroom where she's still asleep and resume my position beside her in bed. Almost as though she felt me get back in, she scooted up beside me and grabbed hold again, this time squeezing tighter and mumbling something I couldn't quite make out. It wasn't until the sun had gone down and the stars had come out that she finally woke and seeing me beside her, she made her best effort to get up, wincing and growling the whole time. This wakes me up and as I look over at her, I place a gentle hand on her cheek, whispering.
"Everything'll be fine. I'll run you a hot bath. Would you like that?"
Her lips cracked and dotted with dried blood from the healing process, she tries to speak, but just ends up nodding her head to the affirmative. I get up and in the bathroom I find some bath salts that smell like pine trees. The label says aromatherapy and that it'll relax stiff and sore muscles, so I dump in a healthy dose and as I turn around I can see her standing in the doorway in an oversized t-shirt. I can see the pain in her eyes and as the water runs into the tub I approach her and as gently as possible, wrap my arms around her and reassure her that everything will work out in the end. After that long embrace, I shut off the water, help her from her shirt and holding her hand to steady her, help her into the tub. She doesn't seem to care that I'm seeing her naked, and even though my mind knows she is, I'm not looking at her naughty bits, I'm looking at her whole body covered in cuts, scratches and bruises. As she slides down to totally submerge herself from the neck down, I take that opportunity to leave her be and begin the process of cleaning up her apartment.
She's been in there for a while, I think as I do the dishes. I wonder if she's ok in there. I place the last plate on the drying rack and pop my head in the bathroom to see her eyes closed and she's inhaling deeply…….at least she looks relaxed. In her room, I find a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt and set them, along with a pair of panties on the toilet seat so she can dress in private.
As I come in from taking out the last bit of trash, she emerges from the bathroom, her hair wet and a bit tangled and she hands me a comb.
"Would you mind? I'm a bit sore." She asks
She moves over to the couch and sits down and from behind her, I work out the knots and grab a ponytail tie from around her wrist. There, her hair is done and she's beautiful. She's always been beautiful, and now, even given her physical state, she still is.