A/N – I have one more chapter for the day, although it's a short one.
Disclaimer – Feel free to write it for me.
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Grissom didn't arrive until over an hour later. He'd been waylaid by Ecklie, who wanted a review of the case. He'd spent most of the time repeating going over the state of the investigation with the lab director. The media were bound to get wind of the case… and soon. Considering that the bodies were piling up, it was going to be front page news.
By the time he pulled his car into the cemetery's narrow lane, the beginnings of a migraine had begun, with a throbbing pain behind his eyes. The sun had begun to rise, and the intensity of light stabbed him repeatedly, until he shoved his glasses in place.
"What do we have, Nick?" he asked, walking up. Looking over hundred yards away, he saw Sara animatedly speaking with a patrol woman. She really did look like she was okay. When she turned her head in his direction, he watched her stiffen, and a frown cross her features, before returning to the conversation with the officer.
"The first victim was found here," Nick said, indicating a headstone. The dry winter grass, tinged in brown and green, gave away the pool of blood. All of this stood out against the cream marble of the headstone, and the fake flowers that adorned it.
Walking a little ways down a couple of rows, he indicated, "The second victim was found here," and waved his hand to another large blood stain. Walking out towards Sara, Nick paused again, "We found the third victim here." This continued further into the cemetery, until they reached Sara.
"This is the sixth and last," Sara informed him, "We're waiting for the last two bodies to be collected by the coroner."
"What have you found so far?" Grissom asked, squinting his eyes, and fighting back the sudden surge of nausea, roiling up from his stomach.
As if on cue, Sara took up the narrative. Pointing towards two headstones, she said, "We've got blood splatter on the ground and a couple of the headstones. Greg's dusting for prints on the headstones, but some of them are made of too rough a material. He's pretty much dusting every grave in the place."
Motioning him to walk with her, Sara headed back to her car to grab another bottle of water, describing, "Nick's been taking pictures of absolutely everything. We've rolled a couple of bodies, and found slivers of wood embedded in the wounds. Furthermore, we've got some black fibers on two of the bodies."
Glad to be back on pavement, walking became a bit easier, although the minor buzzing in his ears made him run to cold sweats, and his stomach pitched again.
By the time they arrived at the cars, Sara had described all of the victims, adding, "None of them had identification, so we're hoping we'll get a hit on their prints or through CODIS."
Grabbing a bottle of water, she took a quick swig, and leaned back against her Denali. Shutting her eyes, she leaned her face up towards the sun, and gave a breathy sigh, "God it's been a long night."
"Yes, it has," he muttered under his breath, taking a deep breath in hopes of calming the lurching migraine. The sunglasses were no longer helping against the glare of light, and he could barely keep his eyes open. They felt like they were burning a dry hole through his eyelids.
The walk over, Sara had avoided looking at him. While she may have calmed down, she knew this wasn't the place to have a discussion about the incident earlier. It wasn't until they were leaned against her car that she snuck a glance… and noticed the pale tinge of his cheeks, the depth of breath, and the way his forehead creased.
Opening the back door of the Denali, she whispered, "Please get into the car." When he didn't move, she gave him a little bit of a push, until she ground out, "If you're going to be stubborn, then do it at home. You have a headache, and you like you're about to puke. So get in the back seat."
Finally, on a nod, he did as she asked, and waited for her to get in on the other side behind them. Nodding towards the dark tinted windows, she commented, "We'll have a little bit of privacy… not much, but enough."
While he sat sideways, Sara began to massage, starting at the sinuses at the front of his face, then back and down under his ears to below the jaw. Eventually, minutes ticked by, and Grissom began to relax. Her hands moved to his neck, and he let his head slump forward, letting out a groan. Using her fingers, she pressed, kneaded, and squeezed along his shoulders and neck, until she felt the muscles relax bit by bit.
"Where are your pills?" she whispered.
"At home," came his muffled reply. One of the reasons he hated migraines is because of their ability to rob him of any sense of balance. The pills made him feel – off – so he tended not to take them.
"I could get them for you, Gil," Sara softly offered, keeping her voice whisper soft to his agonizingly sensitive hearing.
"I'm feeling a little better," he whispered back.
Helping him lean back against the seat, she ran her fingers across her face, leaned in, and in a muted tone said, "Please either sit up here or lay down until it fades. Try to sleep a little, okay?"
As she quietly opened the door to give him some quiet, he reached out and held her arm.
"I don't understand what happened earlier," he said, giving way to his thoughts. "I know you're mad."
Smiling sadly, she leaned in and kissed his cheek, and whispered, "I'm still mad. Now isn't the time to talk about it, though."
"Schedule lunch," he murmured back, letting his eyes drift closed. "We'll go get something to eat together in a little while."
"All right," she said.
Checking her watch, she noted the time. He would need at least fifteen minutes, but no more than thirty for the headache to dissipate to manageable. Any more than thirty minutes, and he'd be groggy for hours. Had he already been throwing up, she knew it could take hours. She would soon know whether or not she really needed to go pick up his prescription.
In the meanwhile, she made her way back over to Nick, Greg, and Brass.
"Where's Grissom?" Nick asked.
"Migraine," Sara replied, looking back at the Denali. Turning to the others, she asked, "So… if you wanted to take your husband someplace to smack him around for first being an idiot, and second going to work when he's in horrendous amounts of pain, where could you do this AND get something to eat?"
Nick and Brass smirked, but Greg gave her the answer.
"Home."
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A/N – Okay, a short one, but I think a decent on. Let me know what you think of it. Thanks!
