AN: You guys have been so kind and patient with the last couple updates that have been taking longer than usual - so here's a quick update since I had the chapter finished early. Hope everyone is doing well.
Take care and enjoy.
CHAPTER 21
"Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal...Unable to withdraw into himself, he disguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort."
Jean Cocteau
SARA POV
Hand clinging to my gun tightly, I whip around, eyes squinting desperately against the heavy darkness. Desperate to see something, anything, to bring me out of this fucking forest filled with fog so thick it's nearly choking me.
"Sara."
Clasping my hands over my ears, the cold metal of the gun presses harshly against my cheek.
"Shut up!"
The voices don't listen, my name ringing over and over again through the cold, dark night.
"Sara."
"Sara."
"Sara."
Eyes clenched shut and fists pressed into my ears, I run. As hard and as fast as I can, not caring that the wet tree branches whip against every exposed portion of my skin.
"Leave me alone!"
My voice echoes back to me, changing, warping to something nearly demonic in tone.
"You will never be alone."
Sticks snapping beneath the soles of my racing feet, I push through the dense brush, suddenly stopping when the path clears. Opening my eyes, I blink, looking down to find I was steps away from pitching myself over the edge of the cliff.
"Fuck…"
I whirl around, breathing panicky as I try to make out anything in the dark, grey forest splayed out behind me. But, I should have instead prayed that it stay hidden.
Now, images slowly appear, making their way from the misty grey, light catching off skin, eyes.
Over two dozen faces stare back at me in silence.
"What do you want from me?!" I scream at them, watching as they only stare at me in silence.
Stepping back, my foot reaches the edge of the cliff, mere inches between me and oblivion.
"You know what we want."
Spinning back around, I nearly come out of my skin as I find this particular set of eyes nearly a breath away.
"Gabe…"
"You know what we want."
Gabe's words repeat themselves, his sad, mournful eyes burning into me.
"Gabe, I'm so sorry…I never meant for any of it to happen…"
I feel the moisture on my face as it freezes my skin, the icy wind licking up the tears before they can fall to the ground.
"I'm so sorry…"
Without even blinking, Gabe leans forward, cold, grey lips against my ear.
"Burn in hell."
His cold hand moves so quickly I have no time to adjust, the violent collision against my chest sending me pitching backwards. I'm forced to take a quick step back to keep myself upright, only there's nothing below my foot.
Having finally run out of room, my body falls backwards, my arms frantically swinging, but hitting only empty air.
Stomach lurching to my throat, I plummet off the cliff, wind whipping past me as I see all the faces now joining Gabe's as they watch me fall, growing more and more distant with each passing second.
Looking below me, I see the raging rivers of red, the remnants of even more faces scattered along the river, along the cliff-side, everywhere I can see. Hands reaching out from the walls, they try to claw at me in my descent.
Seeing my fate rapidly approaching, I remember the gun in my hand.
Without hesitation, I raise it to my head.
It's only a moment before I pull the trigger.
"Shit!" I curse, bolting upright, chest heaving as I gasp in one haggard breath after another, the sound of the gunshot still ringing in my ears.
"Fuck," I curse again, trying to steady my shaking hands as they draw themselves through my tangled hair, feet kicking at the bedsheets desperately.
As soon as I'm free, I stand, pacing along the cold floorboards until I feel my heart slow back down, clothes sticking to my sweating skin.
Every night. Every damn night it's the same thing. Well, pretty much. There's always victims from past cases, always their clawing hands and judgmental faces. There's always the forest, the cliff, the fall.
There's always Gabe.
"Damn it…" I curse into the still night, glancing at the clock to assess the likely bad news.
Sure enough, the glowing blue numbers show me that I've only managed forty minutes this time. It's nowhere near the amount my body needs, but it's going to have to do. Once the damn nightmare comes, there's no hope of falling back to sleep.
Feet padding quietly along my wooden flooring, I switch the light on in the bathroom, leaning over to turn on the shower. Removing my clothes, I barely check the water temperature before I step under the spray.
I need this dream off of me, the memories of those voices echoing in my ears, the feel of the cold, dead hands grabbing at me, the foggy wind that whipped through my hair. Gabe's angry hand as he pushed into my chest.
I can feel it. All of it.
Just like I have every single night since he died.
"Didn't know you smoked."
I don't have to look up to know who followed me out into this alley.
"Didn't know you did either."
There's a soft laugh as my companion leans herself against the wall next to me.
"Look at us," she smiles. "Getting to know one another."
I take a deep drag from my cigarette, unable to help the small smile that comes to my lips. Maybe it's the warm night air, maybe it's the truce that Catherine and I have successfully continued for now over a week and a half.
Maybe it's the countless shots of tequila I've had.
The last one's most likely, let's be realistic.
Regardless of what it is, I reach over, offering the blonde my lighter.
"Thanks."
When she hands it back, her fingers briefly touch mine. The electricity that pulses between us nearly makes me drop it. She seems to feel it, too, if the quick retraction of her hand is any indication.
"The guys seem like they're having a good time," Catherine says, clearing her throat, exhaling from her own cigarette into the night air.
"They do," I agree, smiling slightly as I recall the various drinking games the boys have been challenging each other to all night.
It's not often that we go out as a team, but Greg's birthday was just the excuse that we required to take a much needed break. The whole night shift is here, even Grissom, along with people's significant others, friends. It's been a great time for all of us to unwind.
And, for me in particular, it's been a great reason not to go back to my empty apartment filled with nightmares and voices of victims I couldn't give justice. Filled with the condemning eyes of the one victim that haunts me most of all.
The one whose death I can never erase from my conscience.
Cringing, I reach over with my free hand to grab the glass of some awful whiskey I grabbed from the bar. Downing its entire contents, I place it back along the brick wall that holds a dozen other discarded glasses and bottles from patrons who apparently had similar plans as my own.
"You alright?" Catherine questions, brow raised.
No doubt she's noticed my slightly aggressive drinking tonight. I can hold my liquor, yes, but I've had enough by now to definitely be feeling the effects. And, I think she knows that I'm private and reserved enough to not usually let myself get intoxicated in public. To not let it lower my guard. At least not when I'm surrounded by people I know.
But, tonight I'm desperate. I need to stop hearing and seeing everything that has kept me awake for the past month, the things that feel like they're creeping from my sleeping world into my waking world as well.
Tonight, I need to forget. All of it.
"I'm fine," I tell her.
Seeing her expression, I'm surprised to find the care and concern that colors the blue gaze. No judgement, no oncoming lectures. Just concern.
"Been a rough couple weeks," I expand as a compromise, reaching over to grab my glass out of habit before I remember I just finished it.
She likely can see that it's so much more than that, and so much longer than just a couple weeks. But, she doesn't push, simply reaching over to hand me her own drink.
Eying it, she watches me consider the option.
"You look like you need a night to let go," Catherine says quietly. "Something tells me you don't let yourself do that very often."
Moving closer, she presses the glass gently into my shoulder.
"Take it," she tells me sincerely. "Drowning the demons doesn't make them go away," she breathes out. "But, sometimes it makes them shut up. At least for a little while."
Smiling slightly, she looks at me with a warmth to her eyes that I've never seen.
"You can let go," she promises. "I'll make sure you get home safely, Sar."
The nickname slips off her tongue like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like she's known me all her life, like we're close. Not like she and I are just now able to function in the same room together.
Almost as if she can read my thoughts, she hesitates slightly, for the first time losing her ever present confidence as perhaps she realizes her slip. Just as she's about to pull her hand back, I gently take the offered glass, allowing my fingers to again graze hers.
I smile slightly, the electricity is still there.
Taking a few deep swallows, I cringe at the taste of the White Russian, wondering who in their right mind ever decided combining alcohol and dairy was wise.
Reaching to hand it back, she shakes her head.
"It's yours. You need it more than I do."
Watching her a moment more, I quickly finish the remainder. Swaying slightly, I place it next to mine on the wall.
Leaning back next to each other, we finish our cigarettes in silence, both content to simply enjoy the company without feeling the need to fill the night with conversation.
When she finishes her cigarette, she straightens back up, giving me a kind look before she gestures to the door.
"I should head back in. I promised Kelly I wouldn't leave her alone with Greg too long."
I smile, nodding as she makes her way to the door.
"Hey," I stop her just as her hand reaches the handle. "Thanks for the drink."
She smiles back with a nod, "You're welcome."
I watch her a moment, hesitating briefly.
"I'll see you later inside...Catherine."
Her eyes widen slightly before she can couch her expression. Then, a slow warmth seems to fill the deep blues of her gaze. Smile expanding, she nods, looking like some unspoken burden of her own has been lifted from her shoulders.
"See you inside," she agrees, sending me one last gentle smile before she disappears through the doorway.
Feeling my heart racing, I can't seem to pull my eyes from the heavy metal door Catherine stepped through nearly twenty minutes ago.
I'm drunk, but I'm not too drunk to realize the thoughts that had started to enter into my mind when she looked at me with that kind, understanding expression. Thoughts and emotions that whispered to me that perhaps this is the real Catherine, the one that I've heard her to be. That maybe I'm indeed wrong about her. That maybe part of me knew I was wrong about her all along.
The problem with using alcohol to drown out the voices around you, is they can sometimes louden the ones already inside you.
While Catherine has made me feel so much anger, frustration, hurt, betrayal, there's this other set of feelings that has apparently wormed its way in when I wasn't paying attention. Feelings that suddenly appear when she looks at me like she can see me, the real me. When she sends me a knowing and caring smile, seeming to understand parts of me that I work hard to keep tucked away from the entire world.
I know Catherine has been frustrated that she can't seem to get a read on me, get to know me. But, she doesn't realize that she's been more successful than anyone has in a long time. Granted, she's still being held safely at the first group of my walls, but she's already peeked behind some of the deepest.
She knows about my past.
Well, parts of my past. But even that, it's more than anyone else on this team knows about me. Even Greg and Nick, whom I've always been relatively close with. They have no idea.
But, Catherine does.
When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing more of me than anyone has ever seen in a long time. And, it's scary as fuck.
I'm not ready to deal with those demons, let alone the ones that are already nearly consuming me. I'm not ready to try to figure out why, of all people, Catherine is the only one who seems to make me feel less alone when she's next to me. The only one who makes me feel like I want to run until I collapse and yet feel like I want to finally stop running all at the same time.
The only one who seems to make me feel at all.
I push myself to a full stand, gripping the wall until I'm steady.
Catherine may have accessed more of me than most, but what's done is done. All I can do now is focus on not letting her reach any further, especially when I'm starting to believe that the kinder, warmer sides of Catherine aren't just a myth or ruse.
I was hesitant to let Catherine near me when I thought she was at her core manipulative and aggressive. I'm even more hesitant now that I'm starting to suspect she's not.
It's the people in life who have the power to save you that have the power to destroy you.
"Sara, hey."
Looking over towards the bar as I pass, I see Kelly stepping away from a man who looks more than a bit disappointed at the interruption.
"Hey," I greet, watching the guy give Kelly one last lust-filled look before moving on to another woman standing alone at the end of the bar. "Having a good time?"
Kelly smiles, "It's been fun," she replies honestly. "Nice meeting the rest of the team. I'm glad Catherine invited me."
I nod, watching her easy expression. I'm not too drunk to realize that she's also watching me.
While I haven't been blind to the confusing emotions between Catherine and I, I also haven't been blind to the strange connection between Kelly and I either.
Whereas Catherine is complication, Kelly is clarity. Of all the people in my life, this person who I've barely met is probably the most enjoyable to be around. She's honest, genuine. No hidden agendas or veiled motives.
Kelly is kind and sincere. Plain and simple.
"Buy you a drink?" Kelly interrupts my thoughts, her look hopeful.
"Oh," I hedge, not expecting the offer. "I guess, if you're sure..."
She smiles, "Stop questioning everyone who wants to do something nice for you."
"Wasn't aware you were everyone."
Kelly raises a brow, "True, but something tells me you aren't magically more receptive to others."
I look away, trying to remain neutral, but Kelly smiles gently as she squeezes my shoulder, seeing right through me.
"So, what're you drinking, Sara Sidle?"
I don't think I've had this long of a conversation with anyone in my life. At least not one that I enjoyed.
Tipping the glass back slightly, I swallow the tequila, having reached a perfect balance of buzzed enough to relax, but not too intoxicated to not be able to participate in this unexpected discussion with Kelly.
Turns out we have a lot more in common than I would have assumed possible. While our initial pleasantries were the usual questions about work and life, we somewhere along the line moved on to much more interesting topics.
Animals. Running. Astronomy. Music.
We must have been talking for nearly an hour by now, the laughter and voices of the bar, including those I recognize from my team, have grown louder as the alcohol has flowed deeper. The bar is now in full swing, people crowded around every available space.
As Kelly watches me, I'm reminded of Catherine. Of the blonde's own gaze that seemed to penetrate through me. Kelly's does the same, but with her there is no concern for ulterior motives, of revealing too much that could harm you personally or professionally.
While I have my own reservations about Kelly getting too close, it's ultimately mostly out of protection for her, not me.
Kelly is kind, open, caring all the way to her deepest core. She has no place near the darkness and anger than resides in my own hidden corners. I hesitate to let this beautiful person see that, feel that, witness that. If she knew who I really was inside, she wouldn't be here.
When she reaches across the table, however, and gently takes my hand, I can't help the searing pain that it sends through me. To be cared about, to be touched with kindness, it's almost too much.
"Hey," she calls gently, holding my hand tighter when I start to pull away. "Don't do that," she gets out quietly. "Don't hide yourself from me."
"I…" I try to focus, my brain filled with alcohol, dragging up feelings I haven't felt in a long time. "I don't think you want to do this, Kelly. You don't know what you're getting into."
She shakes her head, eyes piercing as they stay on mine. "I think I've proven myself to be a competent individual who can make her own decisions in life."
I feel a pull towards her, an opportunity for something deeper. Something I think we've been dancing around all evening.
I also feel an opportunity to escape, if just for a little bit.
I know I'm toeing a dangerous line, that I came here tonight to focus on my own self-destruction, not take anyone else along for the ride.
When I feel Kelly's steady finger running along my knuckles, I tip my drink back, finishing it quickly. I wish the burning in my throat went deeper, to all the cold, hateful places inside of me.
"Sara," Kelly calls gently, reaching out to softly turn my face back towards her. "Don't."
It's one word, but it's enough.
Taking my hand, she gently pulls me from the bar as the music and the crowds swirl around us. Silently, we move along the back wall, dodging patrons until we reach the one secluded place available.
Pushing into the private employee restroom, I try to bury the myriad of emotions burning through me as I hear Kelly slip the lock into place.
AN: Thanks for reading.