CSI – With Everything I Have (WHN "Grave Danger")
by Susan Dietz (Calim1)
Rating and Reader Alerts: PG-13
Category: GG/SS DRA
Summary: The after effects of the episode "Grave Danger" gives more than relief to Grissom and Sara. It gives hope.
Author's Note: This is written in response to the June Fan Fiction Challenge at GSR Forever Online. The prompt was "How did Grissom/Sara begin their romantic relationship". Enjoy!
Acknowledgement: The episode "Grave Danger" was written by Anthony E. Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn, Naren Shankar, Quentin Tarantino. Some dialogue and situations from that episode are used within this piece. Some dialogue from the episode "A La Cart", written by Sarah Goldfinger and Richard Catalani, are used within this piece.
© June 2010
Feedback is appreciated
Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, however I reserve the rights to the specific details. It is not my intention to infringe upon their rights; this story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form.
"When did you two become intimate?"
"Two years ago. I think it was a Sunday"
~ Ecklie/Sara "A La Cart"
Chapter 1
"I want my guys back."
The words spoken came out in a low tone that may not have been heard if there had been anything else but silence permeating the air. Conrad Ecklie glanced at a subdued Gil Grissom waiting for more. When none came he cast a glance at Jim Brass, Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders standing to Grissom's left then backed away, leaving them handle the man.
Greg leaned in close to Sara, eyes flitting between her and Grissom. "Do you need any help?" he quietly asked.
She turned to him and shook her head. "No. I'll take care of him. Thanks though."
"Okay," Greg answered then turned to Brass. "I'll help Ecklie with the processing."
"You do that," Brass said with a friendly pat to Greg's arm. "It'll be okay."
Greg gave him a bit of a grin then moved off, casting a worried glance over his shoulder.
Sara caught Brass's eye and gave him a short dip of the head as he mouthed the words 'meet you at the hospital' then quietly left, leaving her to turn her attention to the silent figure remaining.
It seemed that he was waiting for something but she wasn't sure what. Nothing was left to do except leave this place and never look back. Any evidence collected could only go into the file for there was no one left to prosecute. Nick was safe. The bad guy was dead. The case was closed. But she knew the case wouldn't leave them for a long time.
And it wouldn't leave him either, manifesting itself in long brooding silences that would come upon him throughout the day, lasting for however long it lasted. Many would think he was merely thinking about some convoluted string of evidence that refused to come together, but she would know and she would be there for whatever he needed.
But as she looked upon him now it didn't appear that he was brooding. This was different. This silence was more like the end of the line when you're barely hanging on and don't know what to do next.
She knew what to do next and stepped toward him.
"Gris?"
When he didn't move or even acknowledge her presence she said his name again then gently tugged on his arm. That slight movement seemed to bring him back from staring after the long disappeared ambulance hauling their colleague, Nick Stokes, to the hospital and it took him a moment to notice her. From what she could see of his blue eyes they seemed clouded, distant, not the usual brightness normally there. He looked so fragile, fragile and in pain and she desperately wanted to comfort him.
"Come on."
Grissom squinted at her then followed where she pulled, his movements sluggish and tired. It seemed to take forever for him to register that her hands were on his arms pushing him against something solid then opening a door. He felt her gently push him toward the opening but he remained where he was, his muddled brain centering in on her as thoughts drifted to the dreams that kept him company each time he closed his eyes, dreams of her giving him a needed respite from the daily doses of death he voluntarily exposed himself too. Those dreams mended him whenever he felt broken.
But now he was awake and she was standing here looking tenderly at him and he wondered, yet again, what it would be like to simply run his fingers through her hair for no other reason than because he could. Before he knew it, that's exactly what he was doing.
"So soft," he whispered as his hand traced the strands, a thumb trailing over her cheek.
Sara leaned into the touch and reached up to place her hand over his, eyes closing at the feel of this simple gesture. For so long she'd wanted this, wanted him to touch her, to take her into his arms and never let go. But then she remembered where she was and her eyes popped open and she pulled his hand into hers, softly smiling at him.
"Come on, Gris. Get in," she urged.
The side of his mouth lifted in an attempt at a grin then he did as she asked and settled into the seat, leaning back and wishing that things were different.
If wishes were horses . . .
"I'll be right back," she informed him getting nothing in return.
Easing the door shut, Sara headed back towards the sound of Ecklie's voice as he organized the remaining CSI's on site. Patiently, she waited until he noticed her then stepped towards him.
"How is he?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Exhausted. I'm taking him to the hospital. He was never given a thorough check up after the explosion. I want to make sure he's okay."
"Sounds right."
"Then I'm taking him home. He hasn't slept through this whole ordeal and he's barely on his feet now."
Ecklie nodded, glancing toward the SUV. "Days will process the scene. All of you have worked long enough. I'll send Sanders home as well. I promise not to call Grissom tomorrow. The least I can do is give him a day to relax."
"Let's hope there aren't any buggy bodies planning to appear."
Ecklie gave her a raised brow. "I know enough to take pictures."
"Thanks," she said.
"Take care of him, Sara."
A bit taken aback at the words and tone, she barely managed to keep the surprise off her face and pushed out a smile. Making her way back to the SUV, she climbed into the driver's side and cast a glance at her special passenger. He was asleep, his head leaning against the window and, once again, she felt the need to comfort this man whether he wanted it or not.
She started the engine and he didn't even move.
csicsicsicsi
The dirt keeps falling.
Each time I dig a hole it fills back up.
There's no way I can save her, not like this. Someone has to help. That's what I need. Extra hands.
Help! Anyone!
I can't wait any longer.
I grit my teeth and glare at the dirt as if that will make it obey and dig until finally I hit something solid. Hope rushes through me and I dig faster until I can see the top of a plexiglass sheet and what's inside tears me to shreds.
Sara.
She's struggling and my heart freezes. Frantically I search for the edge.
I have to get her out!
I can't let her die!
Ignoring the pain from torn fingernails and ripped skin, I search for a way in.
I can't lose her when I'm this close!
And there it is – a broken edge. I curl fingers into the hole and lift, pushing the lid aside. Her hands shoot up and grab at me and her panicked cries hurt my heart. All I want to do his hold her, tell her how much I love her but there's something that prickles at the back of my brain and I hold her down.
"Let me go!" she yells and pushes against me.
"Hold still!" I shout, ignoring her pleas, trying to figure out what's coming. I know it's bad. I just don't know what it is.
"Grissom! Get me out!" she yells but I hold firm. "Please!" she begs, her voice dragging my eyes to her for an instant, my strength faltering at the look of pure fright on her face and she pushes past my hands.
A rumble sounds, the earth moves and she is ripped apart before my eyes and her name escapes me in a harsh and terrified scream . . .
"Sara!"
The sound of his own voice echoed about Grissom and he jerked upright nearly unseating himself from the couch where he'd been laying, reaching out for anything solid. Hands grabbed him and he grabbed back, disoriented and breathless, the spinning room making him nauseous.
"It's okay. I've got you," came to him in a soothing tone as he became more aware of his surroundings and whose hands he was clutching.
Sara.
She was here and not buried in the ground.
It was a dream. Just a dream.
Taking measured breaths, he eventually relaxed his hands in hers then removed them to press against the couch.
"You're okay," she said. "It was just a dream."
Just a dream. That's all it was.
Keeping his head bowed, Grissom concentrated on regaining his balance, hoping to slow the pounding in his head and keep his stomach where it should be before he would even consider speaking up for himself. He had to rid himself of those images that still resonated within. They weren't true.
Nick had been in that box, not Sara.
They were both alive and safe.
There was nothing to worry about.
Sighing, he ventured to peek through his lashes making sure the room had stopped its sickening spin before opening them fully and sitting back, casting a wary look toward Sara who tossed him a cautious smile. From somewhere he found a semblance of one as his attention shifted toward Brass slowly making his way toward them.
With eyes never leaving Grissom, he settled himself on the table in front of him.
"How you doing?" came the inevitable question which received only a shrug.
"I've been better," he admitted leaning his head back against the couch.
Brows rose steadily at that confession which sent more worry onto Brass's already laden shoulders. The normal 'I'm fine' was what he expected, not the truth. His attention shifted to Sara.
She smirked at the look. "He has a slight concussion and multiple bruises," she began looking over at Grissom. "Pretty sure he's going to be sore tomorrow. But mainly he's exhausted, both physically and mentally. I think he also has the beginnings of a migraine."
"And why isn't he home?" Brass asked of Sara, a no-nonsense tone making its way into his words.
"I want to see Nick," Grissom answered as he sat forward resting his head in his hands, deciding he'd better say something before they packed him off.
"We're waiting for the doctor to tell us it's okay to go in but we've been waiting awhile," Sara added.
"Ah, something to do," Brass said as he rose, a determined look in his eye.
"Are you sure you don't want to go home?" Sara asked of Grissom as she leaned in close, placing a hand on his back and moving it in slow circles.
He barely shook his head then pressed fingers to his temples and sighed. He was so tired. When looking for Nick it had been all consuming. Nothing else mattered except finding him and adrenaline had taken care of everything. Now, when it was all over, he was slowly folding in on himself. He couldn't do that. Not yet anyway.
"I want to see Nick," he repeated. That's all had to do – see Nick and then he would know this was all over.
"Okay," Sara answered looking up to see Brass coming their way. "That didn't take long."
"It's my Jersey charm," he answered with a slight grin. "He's down the hall behind me. Let's go."
With a deep breath, Grissom began to rise and instantly found Brass on one side and Sara on the other when he began to sway. Normally he would've flushed at his inability to do such a trivial thing as stand but he was just so worn out. Let other people help him for once.
Between the three of them they managed to maneuver themselves toward their destination, ignoring the odd looks the nurses gave out as they passed, both Sara and Brass scanning the nameplates and room numbers until the name STOKES, printed on masking tape, was spotted on the door to their left.
Leaning Grissom against the wall, Brass ducked his head into the room to verify the occupant then came right back out.
"Everybody's there," he said giving Grissom the eye. "You okay?" he asked as the man lifted his head and nodded. "Okay, then. It's a little crowded in there so we'll be right out here. Call us if you need anything." Letting go of Grissom's arm, Brass held the door for him.
"Thanks, Jim," he said, his tone grateful.
"It's what friends are for," he answered with a smile wondering if Grissom knew he was holding Sara's hand.
She let him go first and glanced toward Brass who acted as if he'd not seen a thing and they both watched Grissom slip inside.
A single light over the sink dropped shadows on everything and everyone but he could still make out Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown seated at the small table near the window. Acknowledging them with a tilt of his head, Grissom made his way to the end of the bed noticing two other people sitting there – Jillian and Bill Stokes, Nick's parents – each holding one of his hands. Before Grissom could open his mouth, Jillian rose and came toward him. He took a step back, not sure what was coming, then found himself enveloped in a hug, his own arms hesitantly coming up around her.
"Thank you for saving my son," she sobbed as Bill approached holding out his hand. Grissom took it as Jillian stepped back.
"You'll never know how much we owe you, sir," Bill said, his cracking voice and glistening eyes telling of his gratefulness.
"He's alive. The debt is paid," Grissom quietly stated as he let go of Bill's hand.
"The debt will never be paid," Bill gave back.
Grissom didn't know what to say in response so simply nodded, shifting his gaze toward Nick, wincing at the ant bites on every visible piece of skin.
"How is he?" he finally asked.
Bill looked back to his son and smiled. "He's going to be fine. A few ants and a crazy man aren't going to put my son on his back for long."
Grissom could hear the pride in the man's voice and felt it himself, finding it hard not to revisit the panicked state Nick had been in when they'd opened the box lid, holding him down so he wouldn't move and marveling at the trust he'd shown in him when he stilled at his request.
It was over and Nick was alive and not part of an exhaustion addled vision that still troubled him. True, he was covered in bites, would suffer horrible nightmares and flashbacks but he was out of that box – out and breathing fresh air. And that's all Grissom really needed to know. Later, when they were both stronger, he would remind Nick that disappointment was not a word he associated with the young man and knew he never would.
"Good," Grissom said. "I just wanted to see for myself."
"We'll make sure he knows you were here," Jillian said with a watery smile.
Giving her back a bit of a grin, he turned to leave as quietly as he came in when a whispered voice brought him to an abrupt stop.
"Gris."
Glancing back, he spied two fearful eyes staring at him from the bed along with an unsteady hand stretching toward him. Suddenly the room became very small with only two occupants – himself and Nick – and he couldn't help but move closer grasping the offered hand as he sat on the side of the bed.
"I'm here, Nicky," Grissom informed him trying to convey some sort of strength to the young man who only held on tighter.
"Gris," Nick whispered again, his voice trailing off into a sob as tears streaked his face.
It took but a moment for Grissom to gather Nick into his arms and hold him close, his own eyes closing at the wretched sounds filling the room.
"You're safe. I've got you."
"I tried to think like you," Nick sputtered. "I tried to be strong."
"You were, Nicky. You did everything I would've done."
"I did?" came the innocent question that pulled at Grissom's heart.
"You did."
He felt Nick wrap his other arm about his back and unconsciously began to rock him.
"You've never disappointed me, Nicky," Grissom whispered to him. "Never."
Those words seemed to resonate with the young man and he cried even harder not worried who would see for right then all he knew was Grissom had been there when he'd confessed his worries. And then he'd been there at the end and put all his faith in the man knowing he would get him out of that box. And now here he was – safe at last – all because of Grissom.
He held on tighter.
Part 1 of 3. All should be posted by June 30th. Reviews are appreciated.