AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, huge thanks to Thanks to CrayonTyrant, QueenOfTheUniverse, YuugisGirl, CrystallineSolid, longas91, liz, Evil_Genius_of_the_COCA, Praetor_Corvinus, Marifw, readingcats, White_N_Nerdy, Easily_Obsessed-82193, Atticus, Tuppencecat and Appreciates_Fine_Labrats for reviews on the last chapter, to LostLadyKnight for looking over the chapter again, and to LaughableBlackStorm for her continuing and amazing help with beta! The Warrick-Sara scene toward the end is unbetaed, which is, again, entirely my fault, as I accidentally sent LaughableBlackStorm an extra copy of the first Sara scene in the place of the W-S scene. Also, I made a few edits post-beta, and apologize ahead of time for any typos in those portions. To keep track of evidence and edits, I bolded and underlined a few lines. I'm fairly certain I got rid of all of the strange formatting on this document, but if you see any, that's why. (And if you see any, also do please let me know so that I can correct it.)
Anyway, I apologize very much for the delay. As previously noted, it took me a ridiculously long time to get this chapter, along with the following one, together because of all of the evidence that had to be put together. I have to say that I now have all the more respect for writers (and CSIs) for keeping track of so much evidence in cases. And, by the end of these two chapters, I hope you guys have similar feelings about Wendy, who is dealing with the bulk of the evidence on this particular case, and with very little experience in the field. On the excuse note, while I was trying to finish the chapters, the Internet went down in all of the dorms on my part of campus, and my ethernet drop hasn't been working for over a week, which caused some major issues in writing (as I needed to access past chapters on FFnet) and in sending it to LaughableBlackStorm for beta. On a positive note, I got three chapters done while I was without Internet, so there shouldn't be anymore delays in the near future, and the next three chapters, including this one, are all definitely on the longer side. Anyway, you guys didn't come here for excuses, so here is the chapter ;/
'SOLTAR' translates (approximately) to 'to let go'.
Standard disclaimers. If I owned it, Warrick would still be alive. However, the last episode, 'Way To Go,' which I LOVED, probably would have been exactly the same. All Greg fans should definitely watch that episode if they haven't already.
CHAPTER 25: SOLTAR
"It is best to love wisely, no doubt: but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all." -- William Makepeace Thackeray
Warrick stared at his reflection in the mirror. He took great pride in his ability to tie a tie. Some men needed a woman to tie their ties. For Warrick, however, it was generally about want rather than need. He loved a woman, but he would never need her, just as she would never need him. Together, though, they still fit.
Catherine had gone home to get dressed in more funeral-appropriate clothes. He thought something had changed in her since their trip to the cemetery, but he could never tell. Catherine was good at hiding things -- better than just about anyone else he'd ever known. Watching Catherine taught him the difference between emotive and transparent. Somehow she found the right balance -- evading stoicism at the right moments, but not wearing her heart on her sleeve. Except for those two nights -- the talk and the dig. Those were their nights. Those were the nights they had, at least for now. Life was too hectic. They'd agreed on it. Deal with life, then deal with love. But they would deal with it soon enough.
Warrick heard a hasty scraping. He looked up to see Nick shoving though a locker.
"Whatcha lookin' for?"
Nick shook his head. "Somethin' for Greg."
"You mean for the funeral?"
"Memorial," Nick corrected. "You can't have a funeral without a body."
Warrick nodded. He didn't quite agree, but he gave Nick the benefit of the doubt.
It was to be a small ceremony. A handful of lab personnel. Greg's mother and stepfather. Maybe Greg's father. Nick had managed to dig up the names of a handful of Greg's college friends, and three of them were coming. The Lab hadn't wanted anything big, and Catherine had been worried that a few protesters or members of the press -- the ones who still saw Greg as the white cop that had run down a black teenager -- would show up and turn it into a fiasco.
They wanted something respectful. A chance to reflect and grieve for those that had really known Greg in the last decade. Technically, there wouldn't be a funeral until Greg's body was actually found. That was the one thing Jan Sanders had insisted on. That Greg get a funeral, where he was really laid to rest next to his Nana and Papa Olaf and his three siblings, all miscarried or stillborn. Then, maybe, he'd get a real funeral -- one that wouldn't be overshadowed by the Demetrius James fiasco, the casino heist or any of the other drama of the past few years.
"You know who Thackeray was?"
Warrick looked up, startled, from the black leather shoes he'd been tying. "He was an author, right?"
"Yeah. According to Wikipedia. And Grissom," Nick replied.
Warrick nodded, assuming there was a reason for the question.
"Greg mentioned him."
"Whad'ya mean?" Warrick asked patiently.
"He mentioned him. And he mentioned you."
Warrick could sense the irritation in Nick's voice and decided not to push it. "Oh."
"You ever talk to Greg about Thackeray?"
"I don't know."
Nick shook his head slowly. "I never understood him," he said quietly.
Warrick nodded, staring off toward Greg's locker, now Wendy's. The familiar locker reminded him of when he'd heard that author's name before. "Now I remember him," he said, feeling gratified.
"Thackeray or Greg?"
Warrick looked up, slightly alarmed. "Thackeray," he told Nick, slightly stunned at the question. "I'd never forget Greg."
Nick nodded. "Good. He shouldn't be forgotten."
Warrick raised an eyebrow. He was still slightly baffled. "Of course not. He was a friend. A good friend. To most of us."
It was Nick's turn to look up alarmed. "Most of us? Who was he less than a friend to?"
"I meant more."
Nick tilted his head in apparent confusion.
"He wasn't less than a friend to anyone here, or at least to anyone on our team. He was a good man, and a good friend. But I think he was more than a friend to you."
Nick nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."
"Why didn't you tell me, Nick?"
Nick shrugged. "I was worried. Greg wanted to tell Sara, possibly Cath as well."
Warrick tried not to feel hurt. It wasn't his place to hold it against his ex-colleague. He hadn't been as close to Greg as Sara or, apparently, Catherine. But everybody loved Cath. She was the mother of the team. Warrick tried to disregard the squickish thoughts that came to mind with that line of reasoning. Warrick hadn't been as close to Greg as Sara had been, nor obviously as Nick had been. But still, he'd counted the younger man among his best friends, just by virtue of working the same shift. It was difficult not to feel hurt, at some deeper level, by the fact that he was the one that Greg really hadn't wanted to know, as Catherine had told him earlier. But he shook the thought away. Dwelling on it did no good. Dwelling on anything for too long had never been Warrick's tendency. Not doing so was part of what kept him sane on the job. Everyone on the team -- or on any comparably morbid job -- had their coping strategies. Warrick's was to simply let things go once they were done, and once he couldn't do any more.
He accepted the answer. And he needed to help his friends.
He turned to Nick. "He was talking about a quote."
"When you guys talked about Thackarey?"
Warrick nodded. Both men sat on the bench now, having long ago finished dressing for the ceremony.
"What'd he say? What was the quote?"
"Somethin' about stupid love versus no love."
Nick looked peeved. "Can you remember more?"
"Nick, I'm not Grissom. I don't spend my off-time memorizing quotes." Then he looked into Nick's eyes and knew that this was important.
He thought harder. Nick took the extra time to shuffle through his locker some more.
"'It's better to love stupidly – no, foolishly -- then to not love.' That was it." Warrick felt the normal relief of remembering something he really wanted to recall.
"What was the argument about?"
Warrick creased his brows. "Argument?"
"You had a perspective on the quote."
Warrick thought back, and realized quickly that Nick was right. "Yeah," he replied. "I had just broken up again with Tina. I really thought we were going to divorce that time for sure." Then he remembered more, with a smile. "But we didn't and the make-up sex was --" He looked at Nick, and back away, ashamed. "Oh, yeah. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Greg was in some weird funk. I chalked it up to the beating and everything. We could all tell it had taken it's toll on the kid."
"He wasn't a kid."
Warrick shrugged. "I know. Sometimes he still felt like one. He still had that -- just childlike thing about him." He paused, realizing the thoughts going through his mind. "He was so innocent. Out of all of us, he was the one who didn't seem broken. At least before he got into the field. It's hard not to think of him like a little brother."
Nick nodded grimly, though Warrick could sense the disconnect and chuckled lightly.
"I guess you probably didn't quite think about him the same way."
Nick's lopsided smile in response was a wonderful thing. "So what'd Greg say about the quote?"
"He agreed with it."
Nick's smile seemed to fall at that. "What'd you say about it?"
"I disagreed. Though now I realize I was probably wrong. Even with the whole mess with Tina. I'm glad I had the experience. Loving stupid taught me how to love smart. Now I know I've got a good thing goin'." He immediately realized he'd spilled the beans, and that it wasn't the best time to bring up his new relationship with Catherine. But Nick didn't seem to notice.
Nick just stared. "You disagreed?" he parroted.
"Uh... yeah." Nick definitely didn't notice the over share. "Why?"
"He said you were right," Nick replied. The Texan's face was blank, and his tone flat. He looked up to meet Warrick's eyes, looking for understanding. "He said you were right."
Warrick nodded slowly, trying to get his head around what Nick was saying.
Nick licked his lips carefully before quietly continuing. "He said you were right because..." Nick averted his eyes. "He thought what we had -- what he did -- loving me. He thought it was stupid. Foolish." He looked up to meet Warrick's eyes again, but then stared off into the distance. "He regretted it. Us." Nick shook his head mechanically, and Warrick could see the eerie apathy in his friend's eyes. Nick gulped softly. "I really messed up."
"No you didn't, man," Warrick said quietly, trying to reassure his best friend. He was the only best friend Nick had left.
"Yes, I did!"
Warrick was slightly surprised by the outburst. "Nick..."
"That's what he died thinking, Warrick."
"You don't know that. He probably changed his mind by the time..." Warrick couldn't speak the words for Greg's last moments. "Well, by the time... you know..."
Nick nodded, but spoke, in an equally eerie monotone. "Those were his last words."
Warrick's eyes grew wide. "Wait -- what? His last words weren't about some conversation we had a year ago about Tina --"
Nick shrugged. "They were in there. He said a few other things. Told me to tell everyone sorry, say a few things to the rest of the team." He caught Warrick's eye again. "Those were his last words to you -- for you. 'Tell Warrick he was right about Thackeray.'" Nick looked down, ashamed. "He meant that -- he was telling you not to bother with love -- with stupid love, like what we had -- because it wasn't worth it. I was such an ass to him that he regretted what we had for five years."
"I'm sorry, Nick." Warrick felt like there was nothing else he could say. "But... cut yourself some slack. Maybe you were going through a rough patch. Maybe you just misunderstood what he said."
Nick shook his head. "You don't understand, man. I was awful."
Warrick couldn't get his head around the concept. It just couldn't be that bad. "What? What did you do, Nick? What could make you think you were that awful? I mean, I've known you for years, man. I know what kind of guy you are. And you're not a bad person, Nick. I know that." Warrick shook his head in frustration. "You know which person's really been the most disappointed with you? Like ever?"
"Greg," Nick responded automatically.
Warrick grabbed his friend's hand as it again traversed the locker. With the hand grasped, he moved it toward himself, catching Nick's gaze in the process. "No, Nick. It's not Greg. Greg was never that capable of holding anything against people. If Greg Sanders was nothing else, he was forgiving. It was in his nature. Which is different than someone else I know."
"Who?"
"You."
Nick crinkled his brows in apparent confusion.
"Nobody's ever been more disappointed with you than yourself. To the rest of us, you're a hero. To you..." Warrick shook his head, pausing. "To you, you're never good enough. You always seem to think you've got to do more. Maybe you're confusing what Greg thinks with what you think. Maybe you're thinking that if you'd done something differently, Greg would still be alive. But maybe -- maybe -- it was just a fluke. Maybe Greg was happy to spend the last five years with you, and it was just bad luck that got him killed. Maybe you made his last five years happy, but you just can't let yourself believe that you didn't do something wrong. That somehow you could have changed it. That somehow you could have done something different that would have kept him alive."
He looked over midway through his speech to see that Nick was still shaking his head mechanically. Warrick reached over to slap his friend on the head -- lightly of course -- and grab his attention back.
"You're wrong, Warrick. You're really, really wrong."
"No!" Warrick felt a hint of frustration building. "No, I'm not wrong! You expect too much from yourself! Don't! You need to stop doing that! Don't you see that you're losing it, man?! Seriously, who else thinks you messed up? Other than you?"
"Sara."
"Sara?" Warrick shook his head in disbelief. "Sara?! Sara thinks you messed up?" he asked in incredulity. "What could possibly make you think that?"
"She told me so."
"What--" Warrick wasn't quite sure how to respond. "I'm gonna go have a talk with Sara and clear this whole thing up."
"Sara." Grissom cleared his throat. She sat alone in an evidence room, reviewing files with less of the spark than he used to see. "We need to talk."
She looked up, slightly startled, and nodded.
They hadn't talked in a long time. For some people, it would probably be odd, but they'd always been that way. Neither was a person of many words, at least not spoken. Sara told him that before, when she had at first lusted after him, it had been the adrenaline -- the romance and the power and the excitement of dating such an intriguing, intelligent man. He had been quite flattered.
Now, though, and for the past few years, she said that her favorite part was the silence. His was too. Both genuinely liked that they could spend an afternoon together -- assuming they actually had time off -- just sitting in the same room in silence, as each sat immersed in a different book, play, magazine, or whatnot. It was peace and security. Safety. And love. Exactly what Sara had always wanted.
They talked when they wanted to talk. Ate when they wanted to eat. Together, they were too jaded individuals, hiding together from the world. But still with love. That's at least how it had been. He thought that that was how it had been, but then Sara had left. And now she was back, and he was overjoyed. But he knew something was different. He had pinpointed her absence as the cause for all the problems -- those intangible wrinkles in everything -- at the Lab. But, as it turned out, that wasn't it at all. She had come back, and nothing had gotten any better. The only difference was that the other armchair, next to his in the living room, was again often filled. But that was only when they both had time off. These days, that was rare.
Today was one of their only days off. It had taken a great deal of pleading with Ecklie -- pleading which made Grissom respect his significant other all the more, given her hatred of the Lab's Assistant Director -- to get all of the night shift CSIs and most of the lab rats and a handful of detectives, including Jim Brass, off of work for the whole day, day and night included, so that they could all make the funeral without accruing significant sleep deprivation in the process.
"Gil?" He looked back at her, startled. She always seemed to catch onto his trains of thought at the oddest moments. "You wanted to talk?"
He nodded and gestured for his office. She followed.
They made quick work of the walk down the hall. He loved her long stride, though he could tell some of it had been lost in the past few months, or perhaps even in the full past year.
She reached his office first, and it was his job to shut the door and take a careful step around her so as to reach his own chair, safely hidden behind the desk.
"What's up, Gil? If it's about the Latsky case, I swear I'm on top of it."
Grissom crinkled his brows. "No. No, it's not about the case. It's about you -- about us."
"What about us?" she asked, her face a strange conglomeration of humor, seriousness and a handful of other emotions. She was never the most emotive, but he had grown familiarized to picking up on her feelings through the small glimpses offered.
He cleared his throat and looked bravely up into her eyes. "You've been back for a month. You just came back. When I called you five weeks ago to ask you to come back, you didn't. Then you just... changed your mind. I don't understand why. And, more than anything, I don't know how long you're going to stay."
Sara shrugged. "As long as I need to."
"Why?"
She glanced sidelong to the right -- a move that was not missed by Grissom. He could see the lie she was contemplating telling. He was relieved to see her gaze change courses -- to know that she elected to tell him the truth.
She bit her lip. "Someone I care about needed me."
"But what if they never stop needing you?"
She turned her head to the left this time -- he knew she was going to tell the truth. "I don't know."
"So..."
Wendy turned around, recognizing the tone in Mandy's voice. She kept up her own professional poker face. "I have prints that I need you to run."
Mandy glared. "You know that's not what I meant."
Wendy rolled her eyes and glared back. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
"What do you think I want to know?" Mandy asked, exasperatedly. When Wendy didn't respond, she rolled her eyes and continued. "Your vacation with Nick Stokes."
Wendy blinked. Uh oh. "What about it?"
Mandy stared back at her, looking almost hurt. "Details? I thought it was part of girl code to always share this kind of stuff. Being the only two girls in the Lab -- or at least of the lab techs and all."
Wendy nodded. "Fine." She hesitated, almost feeling bad for the upcoming deceit. She hadn't quite realized when she'd started the case how many people she would need to deceive. She knew it should have crossed her mind that lying to at least some of her fellow techs would be necessary. So far, Archie probably knew the whole story, but that was because Archie -- stealthy eavesdropper that he was -- knew everything that ever happened in the Lab.
"I'll give you the details of the date if you can get these printed." She handed Mandy the bloody handkerchief that had been found on the robber's body, along with the snub-nosed revolver.
"OTJ," Mandy read, carefully studying the first item. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thanks," Wendy said as she walked out. "Give it to Hodges once you're done!"
Mandy didn't seem to realize that she'd been conned, at least a little, until Wendy was already out the door of the lab, at which point the print tech yelled out the door: "Hey! Details?!"
Wendy grinned and continued to the next lab in line for evidence from Juárez.
Hodges had received the samples from the first bloodstain. As far as he knew, they could have been sent by another lab or something. So far, he had no reason to believe that there was anything suspect about them. He had just received results bearing the official Lab seal, and was required to run them. Sending them early, however, guaranteed that they would be run quicker.
Hodges was staring hard into his microscope when she arrived. A sudden mischievous mood caught her, and Wendy tip-toed in, creeping up behind him.
Hodges jumped back when she tapped him on the shoulder. Wendy held the microscope in place so that it didn't jar as he pushed back. She saw a glare materialize on his face, but it turned into a smirk when he looked up at her.
"Simms. What brings you here?" he asked, quickly recovering.
"Trace on my blood swab. What else?" she asked.
"Oh, you really think that's all I'd have?" Hodges turned around, putting a leisurely hand on the lab table. "I'm David Hodges, trace extraordinaire."
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Of course you are."
Hodges continued on, ignoring the quip and reaching for papers. "Being, as stated, David Hodges, trace extraordinaire, I have far more than just trace on your blood sample."
"And what would that be?"
He began flipping through papers, which he kept just beyond Wendy's reach and eyes. "Well, I have not only said trace, which, I should add, took hours to isolate and track and --"
"Cut to the chase, Hodges."
He glared back, looking slightly affronted. That alone surprised Wendy, as she figured Hodges was more than used to having his obsequious monologues cut off.
"Fine," he replied shortly. "I have DNA results as well."
"DNA?" Wendy looked at him with surprise. "Converted to the good side, have you?"
Hodges did something between a smirk and a chuckle. "In your dreams, Simms." He looked down bashfully, as if contemplating something, before continuing. "Anyways --"
"You know it should be anyway, Hodges. Grissom would be ashamed." Wendy just couldn't help herself on that one.
Hodges looked up with yet another glare. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Huh?"
"Why would Grissom be particularly ashamed? And why do you think I care that he'd be ashamed?"
"Because you're a hopeless kiss-ass."
Hodges looked genuinely hurt -- almost -- before looking up with another glare.
He cleared his throat. "Any...way, your results came back as follows."
He reached over to the counter to lay out a variety of samples and swabs, all surprisingly neatly labeled.
"The first blood sample came back unknown female."
"First?"
"First."
"But I only sent you results from one blood pool," Wendy said, recollecting back to the first blood pool she and Nick had come across, right before meeting the first robber.
"Yes, but, being the thorough CSI wannabe that you are, you swabbed it more than once. Which is why I got more than one result."
"CSI wannabe?" Hodges moved to speak, but she interrupted him before he had a chance. "I'll cut the debate and just get around to the second result. Which is...?"
Wendy could tell by the look on Hodges' face that he was trying to hold back laughter.
"Richard 'Richie' Hedd."
Wendy crinkled her brow. "That sounds familiar."
"He must have gotten teased as a kid," Hodges sagely inserted.
Wendy glared.
"You know what a nickname for Richard is, right?"
"Hodges, get a life. This guy's a criminal."
Hodges rolled his eyes. "Someone's taking their work too seriously."
"Coming from you, I'll take that as... well, nothing. Because at least I'm not sucking up to Grissom."
"Oh right. You're just sucking up to pretty-boy Texas instead?"
Wendy looked back, startled. "What?"
"Goin' on a nice vacation with Nick Stokes, huh?"
"What?" Wendy shook her head, disregarding the whole train of thought. "That's none of your business. And I'm back now regardless."
"Ah. I see. So there was trouble in paradise." Hodges' face lit up in an epiphany. "Hey! That's why you sent me a sample while you were on vacation! You got it at the Texas ranch or something. You set on convicting Nick of something?"
"What? No! And I have no idea where you get your ideas, or how your logic works. I found a sample before I went on vacation."
"And so that's why the trace comes back to a type of soil only found at least 100 miles south of Clark County?"
Wendy glared at Hodges, realizing that he'd caught on to at least a little of her work.
"You have to tell me something. Otherwise I'm not telling you anymore about Mr. Dick Hedd."
"His name is Richard, and his nickname was Richie. And yes, I went to a location at least 100 miles south of Clark County," Wendy replied, carefully flexing her politicking muscles.
"More. Tell me more. You're having me run something, and it's clearly not for a case." His face turned serious. "And I don't really think you're trying to accuse Nick of something."
Wendy bit her lip. "Hodges. I really can't tell you. But I need you to trust me on this." She thought for a moment. "Consider it payback for Mindy Bimms."
Hodges glared. "Fine. Although I would have trusted you anyways -- anyway."
Wendy smiled. "Good to know. So Mr. Hedd?"
"Arrested for sexual assault in 1986. Served 20 years. No parole. It's noted on his record that he missed parole because he kept beating people up while in jail. Or at least trying to beat people up. Apparently, at 5'6" in a men's penitentiary, trying that isn't terribly intelligent."
"So he's either really stupid, or someone told him to do that..." Wendy thought aloud.
Hodges shrugged. "Sounds likely."
"Any known associates?"
"In prison, his known associates were Sam Bigsby, Julian Kozlov and --"
"Ariel Marvin."
Hodges looked up, surprised. "Yes," he said, reading from the sheet of paper. "Ariel Marvin."
"Ari, Biggs and Julian..."
"If you say so."
That was when something clicked in Wendy's mind, as she thought back through all of the details of the case. "Can I see the printed DNA profiles for the female unknown and for Richie Hedd?"
"Sure," Hodges said, handing her the print-out. "Whatever floats your boat."
"Thanks Hodges. For the results and for doing my job. Or one of my jobs."
Hodges nodded. Wendy knew by now not to expect a 'no problem' or the like from David Hodges. Humility wasn't his strong suit. She still wasn't exactly sure why he'd gone along with helping her, not just in the trace for her case, but in the DNA as well. Oh well,she thought. I have other things to think about right now.
"I've got some other samples for you to run, while you're at it."
He nodded, and she handed him the rest of the items she'd found on her mission to Juárez -- the second set of bloodstains, the semen sample and the revolver, along with two samples of the blood that she'd carefully scraped off of the handkerchief.
"DNA too, or just trace?" Hodges asked.
"Both, if you don't mind."
Wendy looked more carefully at the revolver, noticing an item she hadn't seen before. She stared more carefully at it, before being interrupted by Hodges clearing his throat.
"There's also a piece of fuzz or something on the revolver. It's probably nothing, but run it anyways. Anyway."
He nodded absentmindedly as he got to work.
Again, surprisingly docile, though Wendy, as she paged Nick and set off with the results toward the locker room.
Nick stood in the doorway as Wendy reached through her locker for the file.
She quickly found the folder from Lenora and smiled.
Richard 'Richie' Hedd and the corpse known as John Doe #76 were one and the same dead man, and Jane Doe #89 was in fact a match to the unknown female source of the first bloodstain from the maquiladora, making things at least a little more clear, but also that much more confusing.
"What the hell did you tell Nick, Sara?"
Sara looked up from the evidence table.
"Catherine didn't already tell you?" Her voice was cool and calm. "You're not going to get any different results from me than when she came and yelled at me." She seemed to catch the look of slight confusion on Warrick's face -- showing that he didn't know about any similar conversation with Catherine. "I'll tell you the same thing I told her. Nick needs to get over Greg. It's that simple. And I told him that."
"You really think it's that simple?"
"Yes."
"It's only been two months. And you think Nicky can just get over him?"
"Yes."
Warrick shook his head. He didn't understand. "They were together for years, at least from what I've heard."
Sara shrugged.
"Look me in the eyes, Sara. Look at me. Look at me and tell me why you're here, and why you're doing this to Nick."
Sara met his gaze with a glare. After this many years, he knew the one. The patented Sara-Sidle-defensive-glare. She didn't respond.
"You told him more than that. You told him more than just to get over Greg."
Sara shrugged, and her defensive glare persisted.
Warrick Brown rarely got angry, but this was a unique occasion. She'd just come back, and messed with the people in his life. "What else did you tell him, Sara?" His voice was angry, frightening and everything else he wanted it to be.
She seemed to consider her words before speaking. She opened her mouth and licked her lips in thought before closing them again. Then she finally met his eyes. "I told him what he and Greg had was imperfect."
Warrick let out a heaving, frustrated sigh. "And what makes you think you know that? What makes it your place to judge?"
Sara leaned forward, and he could see the fire in her eyes reignited. "You wanna know how I knew? You really wanna know how I knew?" He could see her voice raising and her eyes growing almost wild -- but just almost.
He nodded, though he didn't really need to. She was speaking again before his head stopped moving.
"I knew because I was the one to talk to Greg. I was the one that Greg turned to when everything was going wrong. I had the shoulder to cry on every time Nick broke his heart."
Warrick could see the emotion in her voice, and the rationality of her explanation. But it still didn't fully answer his question. It wasn't enough of an excuse. "Why did you tell him that though? After Greg was already dead? You think telling him he was a bad boyfriend is going to make anything better?"
"What I think is that he needs someone to give him the kick in the ass to fix things. And it's clear that nobody else is doing that."
Warrick shook his head in astonishment. He couldn't believe her. "That's not a good enough reason. It's only been two months."
She glanced away, letting the defensive glare drop instantaneously. And it dawned on Warrick. "That's how long it took you to get over Grissom." It wasn't a question. Not at all. He could see the answer in her eyes before he even spoke.
She nodded anyway in response. "This isn't about me and Grissom."
"Then why are you here, Sara?"
She shrugged, and her defensive glare hadn't rematerialized yet.
"That's not a good enough answer."
She didn't say anything, and just continued to stare off into the space by her side, just under Warrick's shoulder. She clearly couldn't quite meet his eyes.
Warrick felt his temper growing, and rightly so. "So what? You came here just to screw with us? To make Nick feel guilty, and to swing Grissom around for another loop? What is your problem, Sara?!"
She shrugged, and he could see a soft piece of moisture accumulating in a blink of her eyes.
"I can't say."
He shook his head, and left the room in angry defeat.
"So, how does this help us with Greg?" Nick asked, not quite happily.
"Well, we at least know a little more about one of the men that killed him. Specifically, that he was probably killed shortly after raping and killing Jane Doe #89. We know that he was beaten to death and then shot post-mortem with a snub-nosed revolver."
"That doesn't tell us anything new about Greg. We don't even know that Richie died right after killing Jane Doe." Nick sounded so defeated.
"Then what should we do, Nick?"
"Nothing."
She looked up, confused. "What do you mean, nothing?"
Three sentences caught Wendy completely off guard. "I mean we should do nothing. Call it off. This was a bad idea."
"W-- what?!" Wendy stuttered for a few seconds before regaining thought. "Just call it off?! After all of this work? After I seduced an FBI guard so that you could steal the case file? After we used up our vacation hours to drive down to Mexico? After -- after meeting those horrifying robbers?"
Nick didn't seem to notice her use of the plural in reference to the robbers. He didn't know about her meeting with Ari. She couldn't help wondering again just how much he was hiding, and she wondered if his sudden reluctance to pursue the case had anything to do with the last four lines she'd heard uttered at the maquiladora -- Nick clearly speaking to someone. She hadn't had the guts to ask before, but now everything was on the table.
"Yes. Let it go."
Wendy let out a loud growl of exasperation. "It's Greg! I thought he was your boyfriend!"
"He was."
"Then why are you just giving up?"
"Because it's time to let go." Nick cleared his throat, before repeating himself. "It's time to let go."
It just wasn't adding up. Nick had been gung-ho about the case before. Now he just stopped caring? It just didn't make any sense. And it left her wondering all the more about his mysterious conversation that night in the maquiladora. "What's going on, Nick?"
He looked back, puzzled. "What do you mean? All that's going on is that it's time to drop this case. All the things we've done so far are just proof of what a bad idea this whole thing was. We've broken laws, Wendy. And all we've gotten is just more encounters with dangerous men. This is a bad idea. I'm sorry for getting you into this whole mess."
She tried a different strategy. "Nick. If the positions were reversed, don't you think that Greg would have kept looking for closure for you?"
Nick smiled wistfully. "Yes. He would have. And that's why we need to drop this."
Wendy opened her mouth in surprise. She didn't quite understand his point. Nick had already left by the time she regained her composure.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I have two spoilers for future events in the story, though neither gives too much away unless you look carefully and do a bit of re-reading.
A note on the two clues from last chapter (Mary-Sue and the songfic): More clues about the songfic are in three even-numbered chapters toward the beginning of the story, along with Chapter 19. The Mary-Sue is in three odd-numbered chapters toward the end of the story. I've been debating how much information to give you guys about both of these clues, and elected not to give you the actual chapter numbers, aside from 19, as I didn't want to spoil anyone more than they wanted to be spoiled. So let me know if you'd like me to give you the actual chapter numbers. Also let me know if you have any guesses, be it about who you think the Mary-Sue, which song(s) you think are the basis of the songfic, or which chapters you think have the clues. All guesses are welcome, and I'm happy to give more hints ;)
Also, for those of you unfamiliar with Mary-Sues, I would recommend checking out the lively discussion on Mary-Sues at the fanfictioncritiquegroup. There is a link to this discussion on my profile page (FFnet sadly doesn't allow links in actual fics).
So what will Wendy do next? And what's going on with Sara? Guess away. And please review. This is a crazy stressful and hectic week, and I would love a review to pick it up ;)
Harper