A/N: Sorry for the long delay. The muse took a vacation. Thanks to all of you that are willing to pick up the thread of this long-neglected tale. Grace me with a review? Big thanks to JellyBeanChiChi for her advice and guidance. Sorry I over-shared.
RAIN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sara was a huddled form on a couch in the dim room. Curled up, her face down, hugging her knees. Grissom approached with trepidation. At the sound of his footsteps she raised her head and seemed to struggle to focus on his face. Her head lolled to one side and the skin between her eyes pinched in concentration.
Grissom studied her. Sara just looked at him blankly. She had on a standard issue prison orange top, too big for her. Her arms looked abnormally thin in the sleeves. Sara's face was still streaked with dirt and she looked so young, so very young. There were the beginnings of bruises on her upper arms and wrists, bloody scratches on her hands and knuckles, and her eyes were puffy and red, Grissom noticed. He stepped closer and waited for some response, feeling at a loss. After a long minute, Sara mutely stretched out a long thin arm and touched his face experimentally.
Grissom released a breath. The strength seemed to leave his legs and he sank to his knees and laid his head in her lap. Sara stretched out her legs, leaned forward, and stroked his face and beard gently.
After some minutes he moved to her side on the couch and took her hand in both of his. They looked into each other's eyes mutely, communicating in the way only they could. Are you OK? Yes. You? Better, now. Gil pulled her hand up and ran a finger lightly over the scratches. Does this hurt? Not really. Slowly, he traced the finger-shaped bruises on her wrists and biceps. Sara gently touched the bloody side of his mouth. I'm so sorry. I hate to see you hurt. Her eyes suddenly welled with tears and she threw her arms around his neck and cried into the crook of his neck. Gil gripped her tightly and hiccuped, feeling the prickling of his own tears. They rocked together, eyes squeezed shut and holding each other, as if unable to get close enough.
Sara's quiet sobs gradually subsided and she sniffed loudly and pulled away a little, looking down. Grissom tipped her head up to look and stroked the tears away with his thumbs. Sara gave him a tiny brave smile, and his eyes smiled back. He tilted his head a bit and said with his expression, Let's get out of here. Her eyebrows went up. We can go? A small nod, reassurance in his eyes, and they got to their feet. Sara wavered a little, staggered, and Grissom gripped her firmly around the waist.
Sheriff Preston watched discreetly from the doorway, unable to tear herself away. The love, the bond, between these two...how they reconnected without a word being spoken, how they examined each other so tenderly...never had she seen the like. Her eyes softened. As they got to their feet she hurried away.
In the hallway Sara finally spoke, her voice small and thick. "I'm a...little...dopey."
"Lean on me," he said quietly.
They made their way down the hallways clinging to each other and ignoring everyone but each other. The couple pushed through the exit and both drew a deep grateful breath of fresh air.
"I'm...so sorry, Gil."
"I know, dear. Let's talk...later, okay?"
Sara gripped him around his waist and let him lead, his arm around her shoulders. They made their way slowly past the parked police cars and up the street. Grissom paused to get his bearings, stroked her back and kissed her on the side of the head. They walked the few blocks to the foyer of their hotel.
"Do you have your room key, honey?"
"Uh. No. I don't know what I did with it," Sara answered after a beat.
Grissom gave a short nod and went to the front desk.
"Room twenty-one," he said tiredly.
The desk clerk looked up from his computer and his face blanched and showed alarm when he recognized Sara.
"Oh! It's you again, Miss Sidle," he said nervously. "I'm afraid you can't stay here...Sir..."
"What's the problem?"
The clerk explained that Sara had burst in earlier, yelling and carrying on and scaring the other guests (and him, though he did not say that) and, well, she couldn't stay there any more.
"I'm not going to cause any more trouble."
"We just need to rest," Grissom added. "Take a shower."
"We need the room, sir," the clerk said, trying to sound firm.
"We have paid for our stay through..." Grissom struggled to think. God I'm tired.
"We'll be happy to refund your money, but I'm afraid I must insist..."
"We'll be gone by checkout time tomorrow. I won't even leave the room," Sara said, recognizing her partner's fatigue.
"No, I can't allow..." He kept staring at her prison-issue shirt, fidgeting.
"Give us a wakeup call and you'll never see us again. Just give me the key. I don't want to argue." Grissom fixed him with a steady look and finally, reluctantly, the man handed it over.
Grissom crossed the hotel room and turned the shower on. He held his hand out and Sara joined him. They shed their clothes by unspoken agreement and stepped inside. Grissom wet a washcloth and cleaned the dirt from her face, then made his way down her arms and hands and body. Sara soaped up her hands and washed him too. They shampooed each other's hair. It wasn't sexual. The desire to wash away the day, scrub what they had done and said and seen and experienced on this nightmare of a day, without waiting another minute, was all they wanted. After toweling off and changing, Gil stretched out on the bed and sighed. Sara curled against his side, a hand on his chest, her head on his shoulder.
"What happens now?" she asked timidly.
"We sleep."
"And when we wake up?" her voice was shaky.
"We'll talk."
They slept.
Five hours later, Sara stirred. Neither had moved. She cautiously disengaged herself and visited the bathroom. Gil's light blue eyes regarded her on her return to bed.
"Hey," he said. "Feeling better?"
"Yes, thanks. Uh, Gil?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you...very angry with me?"
He moved over and patted the bed and Sara lay back down at his side.
"No. Not angry, really..."
"But?"
"Trying to...process. Be patient? You know I'm not as quick-witted as you."
She waited with a tiny smile.
"I'm shocked. Concerned. Drained. I feel exposed. Raw. Don't ever do that again, Sara," his voice was steady, not harsh.
"I won't," she said quickly.
He nodded, studying the ceiling. "I was...expecting some sort of...outburst."
"You were?" she said with surprise.
"Yes. All the research I've been doing said that episodes of violent anger and irrational rage are to be expected with PTSD. I just wasn't expecting...to be the recipient." Grissom glanced at her and then away. "But, really, who else can be the focus of all that bottled rage? Your parents?" Sara sat up on her elbow and shook her head. "Your foster parents? The kids that taunted you? That...rapist? The boyfriends...who betrayed you?" He mirrored her position so he could look her in the eyes.
"No."
"Anyone who ever hurt you, physically or emotionally? Natalie Davis?"
"They are all..."
"Gone. Out of reach, out of your life."
"Yeah," Sara said with growing understanding.
"I'm still here."
"You are? Uh, you're not going to...break it off?" her voice was full of fear.
"Oh, no, honey. Not a chance. I mate for life," Grissom said warmly.
"Good," she smiled, searching his eyes.
"So I'm...safe...to vent to. And you don't lose your temper, or even let yourself get angry."
"Neither do you."
"True. And you've been...terrorized. It's a short distance between fear and anger. They both release a flood of adrenaline. Fight or flight..."
"And I already ran away."
"Exactly," Grissom agreed.
"I'm so ashamed," Sara admitted. "You didn't deserve that."
"Oh, I don't know. Some of what you said was true." He sighed.
"I really am sorry, Gil."
"I'll get over it. Really." He kissed her. "So. I guess we better start packing."
"To go where?" Sara asked nervously.
"Home. Come back with me, Sara," Gil urged.
"Back to...Vegas? I don't think I'm ready...I can't..."
"Where else can you go?"
"It would be nice to take a trip," she said dreamily. "I dunno. Go on the Sea Shepherd. Visit the Galapagos. We could literally walk in the footsteps of Darwin."
"I can't. We're so short." Grissom rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, knowing they needed to decide this. "Taking a vacation...won't change anything. We'll still have to return."
"I'm not well...I'm still...nuts. Wouldn't Vegas make it worse?"
"I can't say. I just know I can't help you from there. You're definitely not getting better here. Dr. Kane is in Vegas–he seemed to help, right?" She nodded thoughtfully. "And there's nothing for you here," he said reasonably. "No place to stay. No help from that center."
"No friends," she added sadly.
"Come back to your friends."
"I don't want them to see me like this. I don't know if I could go back to work."
"You know you don't have to decide any of that now."
She toyed with his hand. Gil quieted her shifting fingers with his thumb, and waited.
"I...what if...?" she took a breath. "I'm afraid, Gil," Sara whispered.
"So am I." Gil's voice was grave. "Come home, Sara. Please?"
There was a silence. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"I'll come home. With you."
"Good. Good. Let's go."
TBC
