Responce to challenge week on FCG. First time writting a legible one-shot with out YoBling.
fanfictioncritiquegroup .com
Challenge:
Must include the phrase: "What are you afraid of?"
Must be a minimum of: 750
Must be rated a minimum of: PG13
Must include: Rain
And choose a topic: Family/the past
Submitted to you by: *Sarai*
Fearing the Past
A woman sat alone in the break room of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, awaiting the night's work. One leg was crossed over the other, a forensic journal set atop them. As her eyes scanned the pages carefully, her other senses surveyed the room. The soft drip of coffee filling the pot every thirty seconds, the even softer tick of the second hand on the clock. The room was filled with the smell of donuts left in a pink box on the table labeled 'Happy Birthday Mary!'—a CSI from Day shift—leaving a sweet sent wavering towards the woman's nose. The silence was only broken by the periodic ticking, dripping, and pages flipping.
"Sara?" Greg asked as he walked through the door.
The woman looked up at the sound of her name, taking in the lab tech's appearance. His dark blue sweater half-hid the AC-DC shirt underneath. Greg's hair was brown, blonde on the tips, and spiked in all different directions.
Sara raised her eyebrow, asking what the young man needed without her voice. She closed the journal and set it beside her before following the CSI in training out into the hall.
"The blood in our vic's hair came back a match," he explained as they walked. Sara looked at him with a frown.
"Of course it did; she was hit in the back of the head with a shovel." She watched, her curiosity growing, as Greg shook his head.
"It came back to this guy..." Sara looked up to see that the duo had entered the DNA lab. Greg gave a wink to Mia before taking the two papers and handing them to Sara. One contained the results, the other a print out of the suspect's CODIS page.
"Thanks, Greg," Sara cut him off before he could commence with all of his theories. She rounded the corner to her right, ending up in the print lab with Mandy and Nick.
"Did you get something from Mia and Greggo?" Nick asked, his Southern drawl imminent. Sara nodded and handed him the papers.
"I still think the husband did it," she answered, a hint of displeasure and hatred mixed with her words. Nick looked at her patiently, ignoring Mandy all together.
"Sar, you can't think that every woman who turns up dead is an abuse case. The blood in Julie SanLucas's hair wasn't even a match to the husband."
Sara glared at him, she had a gut feeling. "I don't think so, something tells me this isn't our guy," she said pointing towards the mug shot of Marcus Zabier. She watched Nick shake his head at her before looking towards Mandy.
"There weren't any prints on the shovel, only smudges," she explained. The CSIs said their good byes to the Lab Tech and went on towards the layout room.
"I want to go back to the scene," Sara told Nick after a brief call with Captain Jim Brass, "Jim said the husband, Joe SanLucas, doesn't have a solid alibi."
Nick nodded his agreement, and then led Sara to the parking garage. With careful planning on Sara's part, the two ended up in separate cars.
At the scene, Sara searched the downstairs while Nick took the upstairs. Sara's heart went out to the poor woman, an obvious victim of domestic abuse; at least in her eyes. She knew exactly what Grissom would say, with him already knowing of her past. He would tell her she was jumping the gun, and to follow where ever the evidence leads. It was hard for her not to connect in some way to female victims; her past was too deeply etched into her way of life.
"I found bloody gloves behind the dresser," Nick called down to her. Sara sighed, assuming he meant in the couple's room. She continued to look around for clues in the kitchen. As she lifted the metallic lid of the trash can with her gloved hand, something caught her eye. Sitting on top of the pile, torn to pieces, was a flier. Sara began to take the separate parts out one by one, until they were all laid out on the counter, spelling out the proof she needed. The flyer was one made by the Battered Women's shelter just a few blocks away from the victim's home.
"I've got a ripped up paper from the women's shelter!" Sara called back up as she snapped a picture, the bright light of the flash filling the air for a few seconds. By the time she had bagged the evidence, Nick was back down with his findings.
"We won't know for sure until we print the inside of these gloves and get the blood result back, but I think you might be right about the whole abuse think," Nick responded. Sara nodded then looked out the kitchen window at the pouring rain.
Her surroundings were all too familiar. The dark room, filled with sounds of rain hitting pavement and grass only made the memories more vivid. Sara spun around to get a better view of the counters. Finding what she knew would be there, the knife set, her brown eyes filled with tears.
She ran out of the house, evidence bag tucked safely away inside her coat, until she reached her Tahoe. Sara jumped into it as fast as she could; the bag now lay beside her. She watched Nick run out of the house from her rearview mirror as fresh tears slid down her cheeks.
"What are you afraid of?" she heard Nick yell at her before driving away. Away from the memories. Away from the past she would always fear.
Fin
1/22/09