Disclaimer: Not mine.
If Sara had been paying more attention during their briefings, she might have realized why Grissom did not seem to notice the similarities between this crime and her lock-inducing fears. The case that he was taking with Warrick was another young woman, tied to her bed, raped, and smothered with her own pillow. When she hadn't come to work for a week, her office finally sent a co-worker to see if she was okay. She was apparently a bit of a shut in, without many friends. Grissom's eyes had betrayed him when he explained this one—they chanced a glance at her face—but she'd seemed unconcerned, distracted, even distant. She'd been restrained by a silk sash—the belt of her own dress—and Grissom had let Warrick process the bedroom in a rare moment of hesitation. He didn't want to confront the scene in the bedroom. He sighed to himself, moving through the other rooms—it was going to be a very long night.
Although emotionally difficult for Grissom, there was little to process on the scene and they'd made it back to the lab after only about an hour and a half. After they met with the Coroner, Grissom let Warrick run with the case—they had so little to go on thus far that it was really a one man job—and retreated to his office to get some paperwork done as down time was rare. Grissom sat heavily in his chair, and looked at the messy desk before him, a dozen things beckoning to be completed. Instead, he thought of Sara—he missed her hair curly. She had been straightening it for so long.
Was it some sort of omen that this was the case he should encounter tonight? He was aware that his…interest…in restraints in the bedroom was not a rare one by far, but he had always been wary of it, confiding it in none of his lovers before Sara. Hell, he hadn't really even confided in Sara—she had just known. He was wary because of the sheer number of women they found dead or dying, sexually assaulted or not, who had been bound. It felt like it was a trait he had in common with every one of those victim's assailants—because it made him feel powerful to have control over a woman. Disgusting. And he had actually… let Sara be powerless in their love making, an act in which both parties ought to always feel empowered. He felt sick to his stomach—it hadn't bothered him at first, having noted, most logically, to himself that she had clearly enjoyed herself, had tied herself up, and had not seemed to feel their balance of power was off.
He paused, reminded of an instance which, before now, he had forgotten about. When he had mentioned their power structure, and how it had been all off when they met, she had smiled her secret Sara smile and refused to explain herself. He would have to ask her about it… when? He suddenly realized that he'd assumed he'd be seeing her again, after work… he had even assumed that they would spend the night together again. How strange—it was unlike him to jump to conclusions, especially without being aware of the jumping. He… didn't know if he would spend the night with her again. Though she had been right that he was too… noble to accept a "freebie," she was also right that he should not pursue her simply because he felt he ought to. Truth be told, he had felt exposed all night, without his rules and control and careful walls between them… the idea of that feeling never going away was worrying, to say the least. The idea of going home alone at the end of shift, after the night they'd shared, however, felt almost painful. He needed coffee, he determined, thinking that something stronger might be necessary as soon as he was off the clock.
Sara watched Grissom hurry into the break room, and then turned around at the beeping which meant that the prints recovered from the lamp had gotten a hit—the girl's father, a convicted felon serving time for drug trafficking. Nick appeared behind her then. "I heard the beeping. What do we got?"
"Nothing—prints from the girl's father, he was imprisoned a week ago."
"Imprisoned? Let's see that… trafficking? Do you think her murder was related to her dad's…occupation?"
"Could be. My instinct says no, though. The crime scene was messy—electronics were missing, some even appearing to have been dropped while running away—a drug hit would be cleaner. I think she walked in, not knowing she was being robbed, and the guy panicked."
"Well, if he panicked, then he wasn't thinking clearly, and he had to have left us some clue. We just have to find it."
"Did you have any luck with the black hairs from her clothing?"
"I was just going to check on it now—did you wanna come?"
"Right behind you."
They made their way to DNA side by side, having to wait because Warrick had beat them there—the girl had a fiber in her throat. After a moment of reading over his sheet, he sighed in disappointment, moving to walk around Sara and Nick, whose backs were to the door, and then stopped. The hairs on the back of Sara's neck stood up as Grissom's voice reverberated in the small room.
"Warrick, what do we have?" She turned in time to realize she was hardly more than a foot from him. She looked decidedly at Warrick instead.
"Nothing. Hodges said the fiber is a match to her pillows, and the only DNA on it is her own. Dead end."
Sara suddenly realized that she didn't know what case they were on. How could she not have heard that? Once Grissom had left the room, she'd have to ask Nick about it.
Grissom nodded, in response to Warrick, but his eyes flickered to Sara repeatedly—more than he wanted them too—trying to gauge her reaction to their conversation. Had she realized the similarities? Did she see the fear in his eyes?
When Grissom only nodded, Warrick narrowed his eyes, confused, but continued on. "Well, until we get her toxicology screen back, we have nothing to go on. I'm gonna head back to her apartment—there has to be something we missed."
Grissom nodded again, but did have the sense to respond this time. "Great. Take a uniform. Let me know if you find anything."
"Sara, did you hear me?" Nick asked her, as Warrick swept from the room. She jumped as she realized he'd been talking to her.
"What? No, I'm sorry Nick, what did you say?"
"The hairs aren't human—they've been kicked over to Trace."
She sighed in disappointment. "Animal control removed a caged rabbit from her apartment. The hairs are probably from her pet…"
"Maybe. The hairs are black though—I was pretty sure it was a white and brown rabbit. I'm gonna go check with animal control, just to be sure."
He whisked from the room quickly, and Sara suddenly realized she had not heard Grissom leave—she turned once again—he stood still in the doorway, apparently at a loss for words.
"Sara, I…" He stopped again, and there was confusion in his eyes. She hedged him off, before he unintentionally gave them away.
"I'll uh… stop by your office, at the end of shift." He waited again, and then nodded curtly, and walked away, leaving her to fall victim to the day shift lab rat.
"What did you do? I've never seen him speechless before… Whatever you did to piss him off, I'm glad I'm not you right now."
She huffed and rolled her eyes before walking out of the lab.
