I want to ask, but at the same time I don't want to press, I can tell by the way she's looking at me that she's dying to get it out of her system. She turns to me and simply says five words.
"I let my guard down."
Slightly stunned by the simplicity of her statement, I'm momentarily dumbstruck. When I manage to respond, all I can do is ask how.
"I walked right by him and I knew something was up, it wasn't until half a block later when he was right behind me that I knew something big was going to happen. He was on me before I knew it and when I came to, I was a mess. I just came home, assessed the damage, took care of it and lay down." She explained
"Assess the damage? What are you, a used car? Honey, you need to go to the hospital."
"I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it."
"Do you remember what he looks like?"
"Like I said, I don't want to talk about it. I appreciate you're being here, Jim. But I'd rather be alone right now."
Without hesitation the words flew from my mouth.
"Not a friggin' chance. You're coming with me and that's it. When I was cleaning I couldn't find your wallet, so he might have it, which means he might come back."
"Yeah, he got my whole bag. But if he did have it don't you think he'd have come back by now?"
I can't believe her attitude towards all of this. She's talking like nothing happened, like its no big deal, like its just some sort of ordinary thing that happens all the time. I mean, sad to say, it does happen all the time, that's the shame of it. She's seen the victims and what they go through, but why does she have to be so damned casual about it. Me, I'm freaking out inside. I want to find the arsehole, take him to some dark alley and pound the living daylights out of him, as he deserves nothing less.
There are so many questions I've got but again, I don't want to press and since she said she doesn't want to talk about it I'll leave it be for the time being. Right now, I'm gonna set the terms.
"Pack up some stuff. You're coming to stay with me for a while, or at least until we catch this bastard. You've got time off of work so you can heal and come back good as new. I'm gonna be right there with you. I'm taking two days leave. So let's go."
Looking at me, I could tell she was pissed. Her bruised face was red and her scratched knuckles white. She just looked at me in that way that makes you wanna say "Oh, shit. I screwed up", but I don't care. She can be pissed at me all she wants. My top priority at this point is her safety and in my opinion the safest place for her to be is with me, at my house.
"You had no right to do that, Brass. I didn't request time off. You've no right to interfere with my personal affairs."
I knew she'd get like this. In the back of my mind, while I was talking to Grissom, I knew she'd be pissed, but at this point I could care less. She's obviously in some form of denial and while I'm not her father, nor her lover, I am her friend and friends take care of each other……that's what I'm going to do. Standing up, I move towards her room and call over my shoulder.
"If you don't pack up, I will."
I know where she keeps her stuff. Her travel bag is in the closet, her stocked toiletry kit is under the sink and from there its just a matter of clothing. I grab her bag, unzip it and lay it on the bed. From one side of her chest of drawers I garb a hand full of panties and a few bras, as well as some socks. From the other side I snatch up a few pairs of jeans, some shirts and pack everything neatly in the bag, zipping it up. All while I'm doing this I'm still struck by her casual attitude toward things. A pair of trainers in one hand and a pair of boots in the other, I knot the laces and sling them over my shoulder as I carry everything out into the living room and set it on the floor by the front door.
She's staring at me now and truth be told, I really don't care. She can give me the evil eye all she wants but that's not going to change my mind. She's coming with me if I have to go all caveman and throw her over my shoulder and carry her kicking and screaming from here.
"Jim, I'm not leaving." She said in very stern tones
"Yes you are. Its not safe here. Look, you can come willingly or I can carry you. The decision is yours, make it before I get back from tossing this stuff in my trunk!"
Yeah, I know I was a bit abrasive and demanding, but she's stubborn beyond all stubbornness. As I pop the boot and drop her bag and shoes in, I brace my hands on the edge of the trunk frame and close my eyes. My knees are shaking right now as are my hands. Why does she have to be so damned difficult? I'm just trying to look out for her and she acts like I'm doing something wrong. All I want to do is to take care of her and she's acting like a child. I swear, sometimes I just wanna take her over my knee and give her a good spanking, and not in a good way either. Walking back up to her place, she's still on the couch as I enter the room.
Ok, now I'm furious. I grab her keys and as I walk over to her I can see that she's at least put her shoes on, which is a good sign. She looks up at me, her eyes wet from crying. I sit beside her and pull her to me, she needs……….well, if not me, then someone else, but since I'm the only one here, she's got me and I'm not going anywhere. After a few minutes I stand up and take her hand, leading her from the apartment and to my car, locking her door behind us. Seating her in the front passenger seat, I buckle her in and come around to my side, climbing in and doing the same.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
All through the ride from her place to mine she just stares out the window and says nothing. Swallowing hard, I reach over and take her hand which is resting on the centre console. Much to my surprise she gives a squeeze and not to my surprise, she starts crying again. I've never seen her like this before. I've seen her angry, furious, happy, giddy, pensive, sad and unsettlingly quiet, but I guess anyone who's gone through what she's going through might be in the same shape. The crying is good. It means she's dealing with it and not burying it. In the end, after the crying stops, she'll begin to heal, spiritually as well as physically.
Pulling up in the drive, I shut the car off and pop the trunk. She just sits there and stares at my house. I wonder if she'll like it. I mean Its not a bachelor pad or anything, but the style is definitely male in décor. I've got some sports stuff around but not too much. The guest room should be good for her. It's got its own bathroom and a nice big bed with soft sheets. The kitchen is, apart from the living room, where I spend most of my time. I love to cook and if having her here means that I don't eat meat for a while, I'll make do……I'd hate to offend.
I drop her bags in the living room and go back out to collect her. Her stillness and silence is slightly troubling to me right now. She doesn't even unbuckle herself, she just sits there as I do it for her. Taking her hand, I slowly take her and close the door, locking up. Not that I need to or anything, there's no crime in this neighbourhood. Maybe its to do with the fact that there are about five police officers that live on my street. It's a long street, about seven blocks and besides the officers, there are enough busybodies around that everyone knows everyone else's business. You can't scratch your ass without the blue haired old lady across the street knowing about it. I guess that's the one drawback to living here, but so it goes.
Inside, I keep her hand in mine as I lead her to the guest room and set everything at the foot end of the bed. She lays down and rolls onto her side, her back to me. All this sleep can't be good for her. I see it as a way of escapism. If you're asleep you don't face and deal with your problems. However, if she wants to sleep right now I won't stop her.
"You nap and I'll either be in my office or somewhere else around. Just give a shout."
I remove her shoes and cover her up with a throw from the wardrobe and leave her to sleep. Out in the kitchen I start cooking, as the dishes in her apartment looked like they'd been sitting there for a while……..who knows when the last time she ate was? Opening the fridge, I see that I have little in the way of ingredients for vegetarian cuisine, so I make a list of things to pick up at the market. I pocket the one piece of paper and scribble a note for Sara so that if she wakes while I'm gone she won't worry. Carefully opening the guest room door, I set the note on the bedside table and take a few moments to watch her sleep. She's on her left side now, facing me and her brows are all scrunched up like she's dreaming.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"No! Stop!" she shouts as she shoots bolt upright in bed
Looking around, she listens for Jim but can't hear anything. She's sweating and scared. Scrambling out of bed, she searches the house for Jim but can't find him.
"JIM!"
She breaks down, her back sliding down the wall leaving her in a crouched position and sobs.
