A/N: I am so sorry for the delay in posting. The words aren't coming to me, and, well, you know how that goes. I really appreciate everyone's continued feedback and support when it comes to this story, though, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter! Oh, and there is some swearing in this chapter, just to give you the heads-up.
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Disclaimer: I do not own any part of CSI or its characters. That honor goes to the good folks over at CBS.
Summary: A ten-year old boy with obsessive-compulsive disorder returns home after school one day, only to walk into a crime being committed. Will Sara be able to reach him, in order to figure out what happened?
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Desert Palms Hospital
What money? Sara asked herself in confusion, trying to keep everything straight in her mind. From the bank? There was a bank robbery? When?
Sara's train of thought was immediately interrupted, as she felt Timmy squirming against her. "Your little boy will be next!" he announced, looking up at her through tear-stained eyes. "One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, your little boy will next!"
"Shh," Sara cooed, gently rubbing his back as she gazed down at him. "You're not going to be next, Timmy, I promise you that. But I'm going to get you out of this room, okay?"
"Okay," Timmy hesitantly agreed, looking around the cafeteria in anxiety. You've had time, and now you have to pay up, Cedric will be disappointed in you, you've had time, and now you have to pay up! "But why didn't she pay up?" he distractedly murmured under his breath, before once again bursting into tears. "Your little boy is going to be next, and I don't want to be next!"
"I don't know, Timmy," Sara softly admitted, very carefully getting to her feet, her arms still wrapped tightly around his shaking body. "But you know what? My friends and I are going to find out." Cradling him in her arms, she carried him out of the cafeteria, somehow managing to ignore the confused stares from the other visitors and patients.
One, two, three, four, your little boy is going to be next, goodbye! "But I don't understand," Timmy continued. "Why didn't she pay up? One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. Fourteen, three, ninety-two. Why didn't she? She could have! She could have! One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. Why didn't she, Sara? Huh? Why didn't she?"
Fourteen, three, ninety-two? Are those numbers a part of a combination? "… What are those numbers from, Timmy?" Sara cautiously asked, as she walked through the hospital, and back toward his room. "Are they… important?"
"Uh-huh," Timmy absentmindedly whispered. "Yellow is my favorite color. It's yours, too, right? Because yellow is my favorite color! One, two, three, four, one two, three, four, one, two, three, four. Fourteen, three, ninety-two."
"Fourteen, three, ninety-two," Sara hesitantly repeated, heading into Timmy's room, and closing the door behind them.
"Yeah," he agreed, burying his head against Sara's shoulder, his tears slowly subsiding. "Fourteen, three, ninety-two."
"Three is actually one of my favorite numbers," Sara mused, sitting down on the bed, still holding onto Timmy.
"Really? 'Cause it's mine, too," he mumbled. "One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. Fourteen, three, ninety-two. My dad said that family is the most important thing in the world," Timmy confided in Sara. "So why wouldn't my mom pay up? Fourteen, three, ninety-two. She knows that! She does, she really does," he insisted.
"I don't know, honey," Sara quietly replied, pulling away from Timmy long enough to gently brush the hair out of his eyes. "But can you tell me about fourteen, three, ninety-two?"
"Uh-huh," Timmy whispered. "They're the numbers that my dad told me never to forget. Family is the most important things in the world, and she knows that! She really, really, does! Family is the most important thing! Fourteen, three, ninety-two! Those are the numbers to the secret safe!"
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Las Vegas Underground
"I don't like this, Boss," Petey ran a nervous hand through his hair, staring at Cedric, who was calmly sitting across from him. "I mean, don't get me wrong; I'll do the kid if I have to do him, but he's a kid, you know? A little boy. He reminds me of Sammy, actually."
Cedric raised an eyebrow, giving his associate an amused smile. "Are you getting all sentimental on me?" he asked.
"No, Boss," Petey mumbled. "But like I said, he's just a kid. A scared, little, ten-year old kid."
Cedric's smile immediately dissipated, as he glared at Petey. "Whose fucking father just happens to be Jason Marley, the prick who screwed me out of my money! He's not going to get away with that, so if I have to use the kid as leverage, I'm going to use the kid as leverage, got it?"
"Yeah, I got it," Petey morosely replied, staring at the ground.
"So do you know where the kid is, or not?"
Picking the gunk out from underneath his right thumb, Petey finally made eye contact with Cedric. "He's currently under police protection."
"Listen, dumb fuck, that's not what I asked you," Cedric angrily replied, staring at his employee in anger. "Do you, or do you not, know where he is?"
Petey swallowed, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. Damn it, you've pushed him too far this time! Don't kill me, please don't kill me! He knew that when Cedric got into one of his "moods," he had no choice but to do exactly what was asked of him, the moment that it was asked—or else. "Yes, Boss, he's at Desert Palms Hospital."
"Then I suggest that you go retrieve him. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal."
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The Lab
"So where does that leave us?" Greg asked the group, throwing himself down in one of his supervisor's chairs.
"Well," Nick shrugged, taking another sip from his mug of coffee. "We now know that Jessica Stein is actually married to Jason Marley, who was arrested for—what, exactly, Sofia?" he asked.
Flipping through her file, Sofia cleared her throat. "He was arrested for robbing the First National Bank. Apparently, the entire gang of thieves managed to get away, although Marley left behind a print or two. Several days later, he was picked up at his home, before he was able to leave town. The diamonds, the bonds, and the money that were stolen were never recovered, and no other accomplices were picked up."
"So… what's going on, then?" Warrick furrowed an eyebrow in confusion. "Did Marley hide the cash before going to jail? And more importantly, who is trying to kill his family?"
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Desert Palms Hospital
Timmy stared at the wall of his hospital room, trying to comfort himself by slowly rocking back and forth. One, two, three, four, yellow is my favorite color, Oklahoma looks like a frying pan, one, two, three four! "Sara?" he blinked, slowly turning his head so that he could look at her.
Sitting in a chair by his bedside, Sara smiled at Timmy. "What can I do for you?" she whispered, reaching a hand out, and tenderly rubbing his arm with her thumb.
"I'm tired," he admitted, yawning as if to prove his point. "And—" he cleared his throat, almost in embarrassment. "I'm dirty. So, very, very, very dirty!"
"Well that's an easy one to take care of," Sara calmly replied. "Why don't you just go ahead and wash up in the restroom, and then take a nap?"
"But—" Timmy hesitated.
"What is it, honey?" Sara gently prodded him.
"I'm very, very, very dirty!" Timmy repeated, starting to get more anxious and agitated. And I'm scared. Your little boy will be next! One, two, three, four!
Sara cleared her throat, trying to read the little boy's expression. "Would you like some help washing your hands?" she finally asked him, raising an eyebrow.
Timmy quickly nodded, relief flooding his face. "Yeah, and you know what else?" he asked, already climbing off of the bed.
"What?" Sara couldn't help but smile.
"Yellow is my favorite color!" Once again blushing at the fact that he was still repeating the same phrases over and over again, Timmy looked down at the floor.
"Well it's mine, too," Sara patiently told him, ushering him into the bathroom. "Yellow reminds me of the sun, and of home. I'm from San Francisco, and San Francisco gets a lot of sun."
"Really?" Timmy asked, turning the cold and hot water on, and shoving his hands under the sink. "I like the sun, and swimming, and eating cookies—"
"Four, right?" Sara smiled.
"Uh-huh, four cookies," Timmy vigorously agreed, turning the water off. "And I like video games, and coloring, and Oklahoma, 'cause it looks like a frying pan."
"You know what?" Sara suddenly asked, following Timmy back into the hospital room.
"What?" Timmy replied, climbing back onto his bed, and moving over, so that Sara could sit down beside him.
"My friend Greg loves video games," she grinned at him. "And he loves cookies, too."
"Four cookies?" Timmy wanted to know, laying down, and trying to pull the covers up and over his tiny body.
"Probably more like eight," Sara laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and tucking Timmy in.
"Sara?" he hesitantly asked.
"Hmm?"
"Will you stay with me? Because… I'm gonna be next," he whispered. "The guy said that I would be next!"
"Of course I'll stay with you, Timmy," Sara whispered gently brushing the hair out of his eyes.
"One, two, three—"
"Four," Sara supplied for him.
"One, two—" he managed to get out, before the day's events forced him to fall asleep.
"Three, four." Glancing down at Timmy, Sara was relieved to see him fast asleep. You need your rest, she silently told him. Remaining perfectly still beside him for another five or so minutes, she continued to run her fingers through his hair, before making sure that he was completely asleep. Once Sara was positive that Timmy would not be waking up any time soon, she pulled out her cell phone, and hit Grissom's speed dial number.
"It's Sara," Grissom announced to the group, after having glanced down at his phone's screen. "What have you learned?" he immediately asked her, forgoing the usual pleasantries.
Closing her eyes, Sara tried not to yawn. It had been a long day for everyone, and unfortunately for them all, it was not yet over. "Timmy said that someone by the name of Cedric is going to kill him," she informed her supervisor. "And he told me that the combination to the 'secret safe' is fourteen, three, ninety-two, although he has yet to tell me exactly where this 'secret safe' is. What have you guys found out?" she then asked.
Grissom rubbed his chin, glancing around the room. "Jessica Stein's husband is Jason Marley, who is in jail for robbing the First National Bank. It all makes sense, Sara."
"Yeah, it really does," Sara whispered, afraid of waking up Timmy. "So now we just have to cross reference Cedric with Marley?"
"Not 'just,'" Grissom couldn't help but smile into the phone. "But yes. Are you coming back to the lab now?" he asked. Or are you going to stay with the kid?
"I think I'm going to stay here, actually," Sara quietly replied. "Timmy seems to know more than he lets on, and he randomly shares important information with me." Not to mention the fact that he's scared, and all alone in the world. I know what that feels like.
"Fine," Grissom nodded. "But be careful, Sara. I'm going to have Sofia send over several officers to stand guard outside of Timmy's room. If Marley has double-crossed Cedric, there's no telling what he will do."
Sara swallowed in uneasiness, sliding a protective arm under Timmy's shoulders. "I'll talk to you soon, Grissom," she finally said, before hanging up the phone.
"One, two, three, four, fourteen, three, ninety-two," Timmy mumbled in his sleep. "Family is the most important thing in the world, and she knows that. She does, she really, really does! Goodbye."
Setting her phone down on the bedside table, Sara leaned back against one of Timmy's spare pillows, her eyes slipping closed as she thought about the case. If family is the most important thing in the world, then why didn't she pay up?
"Family," Timmy murmured. "Picture."
With Timmy asleep, and Sara lost in thought, it did not take much for Petey to slip into the hospital room.
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TO BE CONTINUED
