Three days. It's taken them three days to figure it out. Three days of interrogation, three days of analysis.
Three days and Grissom is now intimately acquainted with hell.
Jim is driving with no regard for the traffic laws all law enforcement officers are sworn to uphold, and Grissom can see the lights reflected on the windshield. Catherine and the others don't seem to care either.
The inner city and the suburbs pass by in a blur, but Grissom doesn't care. His eyes are set right in front of him, searching in the fading light for a hint of flamboyant red.
Red. The color of the car. The car that is pinning her to the ground.
Red. The color of human blood. Blood that is hers that is seeping into the dirt turned mud by the rains of the last three days.
Jim continues to drive recklessly, into hills with sporadic patches of trees and shrubs. They crest one hill, and Grissom sees red.
"There." Is his voice really that calm?
Cars skid to a stop, and he hears Jim roaring into his cell, demanding to know where the back-up he requested is. Grissom doesn't pay attention. He sees an arm, a pale, damp arm hanging limply out from underneath the overturned car.
Just as Natalie's miniature portrayed to perfection, except for one detail. The arm is not moving.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. (1)
Grissom is now on the ground, his hand gripping that arm as he looks under the car. He sees her brown hair streaked with mud. He fumbles for her wrist, trying to check for a pulse, but his fingers are shaking too badly.
Time passes, though Grissom doesn't look up to watch. He stays there in the mud, staring at her and stroking her arm. Maybe he talks to her, reassures her that they're here, that they did not give up, that they're going to take her home now. He doesn't know.
Others arrive and the car is slowly lifted up and taken away. Grissom nearly chokes when he sees how battered her body is. The ambulance still is not here, so he and Catherine move in, checking the damage. Or rather, Catherine does. He is still shaking.
Eventually, Warrick helps them turn her over, keeping her spine aligned as much as possible, but they have to turn her over, if only to check her air passage and keep her from breathing in more mud.
Grissom wipes away the dirt from her face, shivering at how chilled she is. Alternating blue and red sheens of light flicker across her pale skin, which signals the arrival of the ambulance.
Then her eyes flutter and all of time seems to halt. He stares down as she stares back up, taking him in. Nothing changes at first, but then Grissom sees the corners of her mouth curl up, just the tiniest bit.
The emergency team swarms over them then and Grissom watches her eyes slide shut again. They push him back and block his sight of her, Catherine and the others pull him up and lead him away, but it doesn't matter.
She walks in beauty like the night,
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes. (2)
She's still alive. After three days, hope returns.
--
(1) Dylan Thomas
(2) Lord Byron