Nick stood there silently for a while, observing her from behind. He'd gone up to the roof, and she was there, just like Hodges said she'd be. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as she stood at the edge of the roof, looking out at the bright lights of the Strip.
He just allowed her a few moments to herself, knowing that's what she needed. But he also knew that she needed to talk about whatever it was that was weighing her down. He believed that she would deny there was something bothering her as that is what she always did in the cases of rape. And he believed that she'd deny it again even though she'd given him some glimpses into her horrifying past recently.
Whenever she got emotionally involved, he became immediately concerned for her. True, whenever anyone on their team became emotionally involved he became concerned, but it was different with her. He felt the need to protect her. Take her in his arms and never let go. Many times before, just like now, he'd watch her from afar without her knowledge, just to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything crazy that she'd regret later.
"Hey," she said softly, not bothering to turn around.
A smile spread across his lips and he had to surpress a chuckle. Now was not the time to laugh. "Hey," he countered back, just as softly. "How'd you know I was here?"
"I always know when your near," she answered. "You might think you're being subtle, but I know this isn't the first time you've watched me."
A faint blush swept across his cheeks, but he knew that she hadn't seen it as she still hadn't turned around. Even if she had, there was a large amount of space between them, and it was nearly dark on the roof. Plus he could always blame the coolness of the November air. "I didn't know you knew . . . I'm sorry, I know that you value your privacy, but-"
"You're worried," she stopped him. She smiled. "It's kinda nice. Knowing that you care."
"I've always cared, Sar. And I always will," he tentatively started towards her, slowly closing the distance. Once he was at her side, he placed a hand at the small of her back. She turned towards him, and he saw large tears rolling down her cheeks. "Hey, hey," he said quickly, bringing his free hand up to her face to wipe away the offending drops. "It's OK."
"I want to believe you, Nick," she said, leaning into his hand that was wiping the tears away, "but I can't let myself believe something when I know it'll never be OK."
"Sara," he started tentatively, "I know these cases have always been hard for you, but if anyone can catch this guy, it's us." She forced a smile. "That always make you feel better. And then that big smile sweeps across your face. You can light up a room with that smile, you know."
"Do you know why I left San Francisco?"
He inhaled deeply. "Because of Grissom," he stated, but it was more of a question.
"No," she shook her head vehemently. "He only gave me what I needed to leave. He gave me the security of another job to go to. But I wouldn't have left if . . ."
"If what?" he asked after a long pause.
"If I hadn't been involved in this case," she admitted quietly. "When we initially made the connection to those girls in Boston," she swallowed, "my first thought was to run, Nick. And I would have. But I wanted justice. And when we'd closed the case without so much as a suspect, I felt like the walls were closing in. And I feel like that is going to happen again," she sobbed. He pulled her close. "I can feel the urge to run again."
Nick felt his throat restricting. "Please don't," he said quietly.
"I don't want too, Nick," she remained in her position, her body against his in his embrace, but she looked up. "I don't want to leave you." Her admission was so quiet that he almost hadn't heard. He was processing her words and she felt vulnerable to have said such a thing. She wasn't the type to wear her heart on her sleeve and the silence was deafening. She felt like his silence was rejection, so she quickly ammended, "I don't want to leave any of you. You guys are the closest thing to a family that I've ever had."
Nick nodded, a tear slipping down his own cheek. He was about to lean down and kiss her until she continued with admitting that she didn't want to leave the team because they were her family. So, he held her a little tighter, his heart aching. "Promise me that if you feel like running, you'll come to me."
She knew she shouldn't make that promise as it was not a promise that she felt she could keep. And the last person in the world she wanted to lie to was craddling her in his arms, making her feel safe and protected from the world. But she looked away from his eyes that were buring into her soul. She placed her ear over his heart, and held him a little tighter. "I promise," she heard herself mumble.
After a few minutes of silently holding each other, staring out at the neon lights of the Strip, he broke the silence. "Why did you feel like running when you made the connection to the girls in Boston." She suddenly stepped out of his embrace, the cool air hitting them both at the sudden loss of contact. She turned away from him. "Talk to me, Sara," he pleaded.
She heard the desperation in his voice. Once again, the tears started to flow. But this time, she couldn't mask the fact that she was crying by not looking at him. Her soft sobs betrayed her. Nick quickly stepped in front of her and craddled her face in his hands.
"Sara, you have to talk to someone about this," he said. "It's eating you alive. I can already tell and this case just started."
She sighed, knowing that he was right. "It's like this case is following me." She could see the confusion etched in his features, and continued. "When this guy started, I was at Harvard."
"Oh, Sara," he said quietly, pulling her into another hug. "It could have been you. Thank God it wasn't." He felt relieved. She fit the physical profile, and would've been in the target age range.
"I think it was me," she said softly. "I think I was the first."
Nick felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. "You? But . . . "
"Why didn't I report it?" she asked him. He nodded his head, needing to know. "I did. But there is no record of it."
"I don't understand," Nick said quietly.
"Neither do I," she laughed bitterly, before breaking eye contact with him. She studied the shirt that he was wearing, nestled beneath her finger tips. He removed himself from their hug and took her hand in his. He slowly lead them over to a bench, waiting for her to sit down before he did the same.
"It was January. And it was extremely cold. But I didn't care. I had finished everything that I could for my classes and had some most of the day off. I decided to go see a movie in the afternoon. It was pretty bad, so I left early and decided that I'd take a walk in the park near the campus. The sun was shining for the first time in weeks. I sat down on the bench that was in front of a beautiful fountain. I loved it the moment that I saw it. Sometimes I'd take my books there when the weather was warmer so I could study. The sound of the water has always been calming. Strangely, it still is."
Sara had stopped and Nick noticed a far away look in her eyes. Her hand was nestled in his, so he squeezed it gently for support. She seemed to snap out of her daze as she instantly took a deep breath.
"I don't know how long I'd been there, but I remember thinking that I needed to go because it was almost sunset. The temperature was getting colder. But the forecast was saying that the sun wouldn't be making another appearance for a while. So, I decided that I'd just enjoy it for a few more minutes. After that, everything kind of jumbles together. Someone grabbed me from behind and was dragging me into the bushes. I was fighting as best I could, but," she shook her head trying to rid herself of the images that were starting to flood her memory, "I couldn't. He was too big. No one tells you how to get away from someone who is obviously bigger and stronger when they get to you from behind. I remember he was wearing a ski mask, and he had a knife. The sunlight caught the blade. It was sharp. He pressed it against my neck and whispered something in my ear. I don't know what exactly that was. I couldn't concentrate. I remembering thinking that he was going to kill me. I could feel him on me, hurting me. The ground was cold because of the snow and ice. But I focused on the sound of the water from the fountain. Then, I remember hearing the zipper on his pants and he told me not to say a thing or he'd kill me and them. I saw a couple of teenagers near the fountain and I think I nodded my head to say that I wouldn't say a word. Then he was gone. I stayed there until the girls left because I didn't want them to get hurt."
She broke down sobbing and Nick pulled her fully against his chest, allowing her head to rest against his heart. The steady, but fast, beat was soothing to her as he stroked her hair, placing kisses on the top of her head.
"After they left the fountain, I somehow managed to get to the hospital that was a couple of blocks away. I remember the nurse who saw me. She was kind and I didn't want her to leave me. She had processed rape victims before," her voice suddenly changed. Nick noticed and was concerned because now she was disassosiating herself from the experience. "She gave me scrubs to change into because she knew that the CSIs there would need my clothes. She was with me through everything. From the time I came in, to the time I left. The only time she was told that she had to leave was when I was giving my statement to the officer. The CSIs were apparently backed up, so a member of the Boston PD would have to take my clothes and the SART findings to the lab, as well as take my statement. I didn't think much of it. He told me that someone would be contacting me to give me an update, or to ask any further questions that they might have had. He didn't even give me his card . . . "
Nick knew that this was probably a small detail in a horrible nightmare that had plagued her. From his dealings with LVPD and other officers from different jurisdictions, he knew that an officer was required to leave his details with anyone that he came in contact with in a professional capacity. And a victim of such a brutal crime was no exception.
"I went back to my dorm and locked myself in there for three days. I didn't even go to class. I called PD to get an update since no one had called. I was always put on hold, and eventually, the line would just go dead. I got so pissed off that I finally went to the station. I couldn't go beyond reception because from what the woman told me, there was no report ever filed. I knew the officers name -- Alexander Danes. But since I didn't have his card, it was of little value. I was so angry that I guess I made a scene because the Captain came out to see what the 'ruckus' was. He ushered me into the station where the police desks were. We sat down and somehow, he managed to access my personal information. Knew that my mom had killed my father, that she had a mental breakdown, that my brother had died of an overdose, that I was a Foster kid . . . . he told me that I was a screwed up kid looking for a little attention. That Officer Danes was an upstanding member of the department and I was trying to bring him down. Apparently the week before, he had received a medal of bravery or something for saving a woman from a burning building. The local papers and news outlets had been all over the story and his name was everywhere. He said that if I had a card from Officer Danes, he might take me as a more credible victim, but I didn't have that. All he could offer me was a new SART exam, but he said that the physical evidence that could help identify whom ever had done it to me, if anyone at all, was gone. At best, all they'd have was proof that it had or hadn't happened."
Nick sniffed back a few of the tears that he was now shedding. "What about the release forms from the hospital?" Every single CSI or PD member needed to sign a release form when taking anything pertaining to any case - new or old.
"Conviently, there was no record," Sara smirked. "I hoped that maybe it hadn't been checked out, so when I saw the nurse that had been with me, I asked her. She remembered me and checked, but everything was gone. She hadn't been the one to release it to the officer, and with so many nurses at a busy hospital -- it would be impossible to find out who had signed it out." Suddenly, she stood up and ran both her hands through her hair.
Nick stood up. "I'm so sorry Sara," he was very quiet. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched when his hand made contact with her back. Suddenly, he realized that with the memories that were haunting her and the fact that her attacker had come from behind, it hadn't been the smartest thing. "I'm sorry," he apologized again.
"I hate telling women that it isn't about sex, that it's about violence. I hate it because I know that it doesn't matter what its about. The fact is, it happened. And you feel . . . I felt - dirty." Sara looked into his eyes and knew that he knew what she meant. His own ordeal had been a sexual assault
"But you're not," even though his voice wavered with emotion, she knew that he meant it. But it had been the thought that she was dirty that had lead her into so many bad relationships. It had been the fact that she had been a victim without closure that had made her into the workaholic that she was. "You're beautiful," he said a little more softly. "You didn't deserve to have that happen to you. No one does." He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "You're safe now, Sara. I will not let anything like that ever happen to you again."
"I know I don't have proof," she continued, "that this is the same guy who is raping and murdering these women, but it fits. Harvard. Science Major. Brown hair. Brown Eyes. Age. 1991. And if he really does work on a timeline like we think . . . I was attacked four days before the second victim."
"We're going to get him," he said confidently. "If it's the last thing I do, we will get him." He pulled her into his arms again. "I know that this is going to be hard for you, but you need to tell them."
"No, Nick," she said forcefully, pushing him away. "I can't."
"Sara, it could help the investigation. You should at least tell Grissom," he said.
"Please, Nick, don't say anything. I don't know anything in this case that could help. He wore a ski mask like he did with the others. We found the fibres on those victims. But I didn't see his face, and I don't have any physical evidence that links him to me. And if I told Grissom, I know he'd take me off the case. I need to do this."
"Sara, I think you need to tell him -"
"I told you, Nick," she said, her eyes pleading with him to understand.
He sighed, knowing that this was something she had to do. "Alright, Sara," he conceded, "but just know that I'm going to be watching over you. If you let this over take your life to the point where it isn't healthy, I will pull you back. Make sure you eat and sleep."
"Thank you," she smiled softly, allowing him to pull her back into his embrace.
He kissed the top of her head as he craddled her in his arms again. He silently cursed everyone who'd ever caused the beautiful woman in his arms pain. He felt her shiver against him. "Cold?"
"A little," she admitted, though she wasn't complaining if it meant standing there, alone with Nick. He was the first person that had truly made her feel safe.
"We should go inside before you get sick," he commented, upset with himself for having not grabbed a jacket to offer her. She was standing out in the cool night air in a T-shirt. He'd have offered his own jacket as warmth, but he hadn't been wearing one either.
"Just a few more minutes," she quietly pleaded, holding him a little tighter.
"I do anything for you, Sara," he dropped another kiss on her forehead. "Anything." He held her close to his body, his arms running up and down her arms and back in a feeble attempt to warm her.
She smiled into his chest. "I'd do anything for you, too, Nicky."