They got back late, in the early hours of the morning. It had taken time to do everything they had needed to do at the hospital, and to pick up Catherine's clothes from her house, and by the time they reached Sara and Grissom's small desert house, they were too tired to prolong the evening. Sara offered Catherine a warm hug, and settled her into the spare bedroom, and the group called it a night.
In the morning, the sun rose hot and blistering. It was plainly going to be another scorching Nevada summer's day, and the heat streamed in through the window long before Sara was even awake. When she did crack an eye open the room was already hot, and she had kicked down the sheets in her sleep.
Grissom was sat up beside her, looking on with a loving smile. Evidently he had been up for a while.
"Hey," he greeted.
"What time is it?" she replied.
She felt groggy. Her muscles and energy still had not recovered from the night before.
"It's after eleven."
He had been reading a book, and calmly put it aside. Sara noticed that he had not got up, but then, the rest of the house was quiet too. Evidently the other two couples had also slept in.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"I'll be okay."
"Is it sore?" he persisted. His concerned eyes focused on her, awaiting a response.
"It's fine," she reassured.
In truth, it hurt like someone had slammed a cannon ball into the bottom of her rib cage, and it was a miracle that the bones were not broken. In a way, she had been fortunate.
But Grissom did not need to know that. The last thing the group needed was to worry about her. They had enough on their plates already.
He considered her closely, and for a moment she thought he would protest.
"You did say I could kiss it better," he said at last.
Sara smiled. Suddenly she was awake, and the morning had possibilities.
"Nick and Sofia are on the other side of the wall," she said, lowering her voice.
"Then we'll be quiet."
He leaned in, and kissed her.
The funny thing was that in the end, they did not actually make love at all. Unbeknownst to Sara, the bruise had turned a nasty shade of rainbow overnight, and as soon as Grissom clapped eyes on it he had halted proceedings. He had kissed it better, but had gone no further, and had not even touched her breasts, even though she had been near topless at the time. Instead he sighed, wounded by the sight of it, and not even her usual protestations that she was fine particularly reassured him.
A short time after they heard their friends rising and getting dressed, and the moment gone, Sara pulled on some basic shorts and a T-shirt before padding out to join the group. She found them standing around the kitchen, Sofia leaning against the bench next to Catherine, as if conscious of Catherine's trauma from the night before, and Sara stopped by them both and pecked Catherine on the cheek before crossing to the coffee machine beyond.
"How are you?" she asked. "You doing okay?"
"I'm fine," Catherine said, and it almost sounded true. "It was one hell of a night, but I'm good."
Sofia clutched Catherine briefly on the shoulder.
Sara was not surprised that Catherine had bounced back so quickly – experience had taught her that Catherine did fine so long she had a steady stream of affection and support. Unlike some of the others, she rarely wanted to talk about it. And now, only hours on from the event, she actually looked quite well. The sleep had refreshed her, and though she was in a skimpy tank top and shorts, her demeanour was confident and her eyes steady.
Sara appreciated all of this as she got herself a coffee, but her reverie was interrupted by Nick, who was digging into Sara's pantry nearby.
"We should be asking how you are," he put in, withdrawing a box of cereal. "You were the one who was beaten up out there."
"I wasn't beaten up," Sara corrected. "I was just… thrown off balance."
"Off balance?" Warrick asked, looking like he couldn't believe his ears.
Sofia actually smiled, amused.
"You were taken to the hospital in an ambulance," Catherine corrected, firm.
Sara didn't reply, and stirred her coffee.
"How is it?" Catherine pressed.
"Ghastly," Grissom answered, appearing in the doorway.
He looked monumentally unimpressed, and Sara considered that she may have actually pushed it too far. She saw him cross to the fridge, and knew before he even reached it that he was going for an ice pack. Sensing quickly that she was outnumbered, Sara turned to face them.
"It's fine, I promise," she offered.
"Give us a look," Nick said.
He had finished pouring his bowl of cereal, and put it aside as he gestured vaguely at her top. But Sara waved him down.
"Uh … I'm going to pass," she said, with an awkward smile. "I'm … not wearing much."
"We've seen you in far less than that," Warrick offered, which was true. They had all seen in each other in very little, at various points in their experience. But that was not the point.
Thankfully, Catherine saved her from confessing more.
"She's not wearing a bra," she translated, bluntly.
"Oh," Nick said, but he looked at ease. "You should have said."
It was a testament to how well Catherine had recovered that she had even spotted this. Sara's shirt was loose – she had deliberately chosen one that was not too tight so it did not rub on the bruise, and for the same reason she had foregone her bra – the straps for which were the last thing she needed. But as Catherine knowingly assessed her from across the room, Sara considered that despite her friend's casual attire, her observation skills were still every bit as good as the pro CSI she had always been.
"Ice it," Grissom said firmly.
He pushed a wrapped ice pack toward her stomach, together with a no-nonsense, firm look.
Sara took it.
She turned away from the others, and slipped it under her shirt. She winced, briefly, as it made contact.
"Did they give you something for the pain?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah," Sara replied. "There's meds … somewhere."
She broke off, glancing around the kitchen. They had got back so late last night that she didn't even know who had brought them in or where they went. It was Sofia who found them, snatching up a box of pills and tossing it to Grissom, who caught it in one hand. In no time he had passed her a glass of water and pressed a pill into her hand, and annoyed, Sara nevertheless swallowed it, fighting back an urge to argue.
She then fetched some cereal, poured herself a bowl, and after reluctantly putting the ice pack back under her shirt, sat down next to Nick. Sara almost thought they were going to relax into the group breakfast, and have a nice time, but she hadn't reckoned on Warrick being so concerned about the previous evening. He had barely sat down with a bowl of his own, sitting beside Catherine, who was nurturing a coffee, before he dived headlong into proceedings.
"So are we going to talk about this?" he asked.
"About what?" Sara asked.
She thought she knew, but was in no hurry to explore it. She had barely even woken up or taken a mouthful yet of her breakfast.
"Last night," Warrick clarified, undeterred. "It wasn't exactly a success."
"Oh, I don't know," Grissom said, with a sudden air of philosophical positivity. "We're all alive. That counts for something."
"At least we're okay," Nick echoed. "No real harm done."
"No harm done?" Catherine repeated, eyes flaring. "You're okay with Sara being beaten?"
"I don't want to seem insensitive, Cath, but it's just a bruise," Nick argued. "The trip to hospital was just a precaution. She's fine."
"You were ambushed!" Catherine shouted, voice rising. "How the hell are you okay with that?"
"Catherine, we're all okay," Sofia said, level. "I understand that you're anxious, but …" Sofia paused, weighing her words carefully, "… maybe we need to talk about the real issue here."
Her eyes bored gently and delicately into Catherine's.
"And what do you see as the issue?" Grissom probed.
Sofia hesitated, evidently wanting to tread carefully.
"I think it's about how we handle things," Sara said, taking the lead. "The structures that we put in place to make things easier."
"That's what I mean," Warrick agreed. "That sort of stress from last night is unsustainable."
"I can't ditch Lindsey," Catherine said, bluntly.
"No, you can't," Grissom agreed. "But you can slow it down. Make the transition more manageable. Have it be less of a strain on your resilience."
"What are you suggesting?" she queried. "That I move in here permanently?"
"No," Grissom said. "Although you'd always be welcome."
"Try one day a week," Sara said. "In Vegas. Rather than jumping all in, go gradually. Start with one night, and when that becomes comfortable, try two. Work your way up. I'm happy to stay, come with you, make it easier."
"I can't ask you to do that," Catherine said, looking suddenly uneasy.
"You didn't ask, she offered," Sofia pointed out.
"I think it's a good idea," Grissom agreed. Then, when Catherine's eyes fell a little, uncertain, he added, "I think we're all going to need some support before this is over. And unfortunately, due to the nature of our experiences, we can't rely on telling our story to health professionals."
"The only people who will ever understand are in this room," Sara said, frank. "And we have to be able to help each other, or this PTSD is going to make our actual experiences out there seem like child's play. We have to help each other, be honest with each other. Admit when we're not coping. That support is going to be crucial to our survival."
Catherine took a deep breath, mustering something from deep within.
"Okay," she said, quietly.
"I'll talk to your mother," Grissom said. "Put the arrangements in place. In the meantime, Lindsey can join us here for dinner."
"Absolutely," Sara said.
There was a brief silence as the room digested what had been said. Then Sara caught Sofia's eye, and saw that she had something teetering on the tip of her tongue.
"What is it?" Sara asked.
"It's just … I can move back in, if you want," Sofia confessed, eyeing Catherine with sympathy. "We both can. If it was too soon –"
"You need to live your life," Catherine argued, selfless.
"You're a part of that life. You all are."
"You don't have to a martyr, Cath," Nick put in, looking at ease. "Whatever you want is fine, okay? It's no big deal if we sleep here or at her Mom's house, we don't care –"
He waved airily, indicating Dianne's house down the road.
"Can I make a suggestion?" Sara asked, cutting in before they started arguing.
"Sure," Sofia invited.
"Maybe we just slow it down a little," Sara suggested. "Instead of being full time here or there, maybe we just tweak it so we all still have time together. Perhaps one night a week, where we'll all be in one place, and have that support."
"That'll work," Nick agreed, happy.
"We'll stay two for now," Sofia agreed.
"Fine," Grissom said. "And if someone's not coping, if they're struggling, then they need to drop a hint to let us know. None of us are mind-readers. We'll need to communicate."
"I'll give it a go," Warrick agreed.
But Grissom was looking at Catherine.
"Catherine?" he prompted.
"Why are you singling me out?" she asked, indignant. "You think I'll be the first to break?"
"Far from it," Sara said, smiling.
"Try," Grissom said.
Catherine closed her eyes, momentarily. Sara had the impression that she was hating every bit of the conversation, but nodded, indicating her agreement. Grissom sought nods from the other members at the table, before the subject at last dissipated.
"Okay," Grissom said, with finality. "Let's move forward on that basis."
XXX
It did not take long before the new code of honesty took hold. Unbeknownst to the group, PD were still not done with them from the night before, and they had barely finished breakfast before there was a knock at the door, and Brass hollered out from their doorstep.
"Hello?!"
He rapped hard on the ageing door frame.
"Come in, Jim!" Grissom called back.
Brass wandered in, his crisp white shirt showing signs of sweat from the scorching heat outside, his trademark sunglasses shielding his eyes. None of the group moved – over the previous few weeks they had been very used to seeing him – but as a trail of other people emerged behind him, including Greg, Ecklie, and Finlay, Sofia immediately pushed her chair back and got to her feet.
"Excuse me," she muttered.
She slipped discretely from the room, followed by Warrick. Both were still in their nightwear, and wearing little that was proper for greeting Ecklie. Catherine, however, dressed in a skimpy shirt and shorts, proudly held her ground, seeming to conclude that as they were on her turf, it was her rules.
Sara got to her feet.
"Jim," she greeted.
Grateful for his help and rescue the night before, she greeted him warmly, and as she reached for him he pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing ageing concerned eyes underneath.
"How you doing?" he asked, paternal. "You okay?"
"I'm good," Sara said, with a professional smile. "We're all right."
She moved on to greet Greg, who hugged her fondly but delicately, still seeming aware of her soreness, and then, forcing herself to make an almighty effort, greeted Ecklie and Finlay, and offered them a coffee.
"No thanks," Ecklie said, taking off his sunglasses. "We're not here long. We just have a few quick matters of business."
"I thought we handled all that last night," Grissom said. Sara noted that he had not moved to greet any of them, and seemed suspicious.
"Well, part of it," Brass said. "The thing is, I need this one to be air-tight. These lunatics have been mouthing off all night in their cell, if they get released on bail or with a slap on the wrist you could have trouble. And they know where Dianne lives."
Sofia, who was now returned and dressed, shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. Her blue eyes flashed with unease.
"I need them locked up."
"How can we help?" Sara asked.
"Well, photos might carry some weight with the jury," Brass said. "If they could see the wounds for themselves, maybe …"
He trailed off. Sara saw Grissom's face tighten with irritation.
"I don't want to be rude, Jim, but you already have the hospital report," he stated, firmly. "And the ambulance notes."
"It's okay," Sara said, cutting him off.
She stalled him with a light hand to his shoulder and he reluctantly fell quiet. Though she hated the idea, it was not too much to ask, considering that Dianne was now under threat. Sara knew that the last weeks would have been nowhere near as easy if it had not been for her, and they were all seriously in her debt – more than they could ever repay.
"The chain of custody is broken," Nick said, arguing on. "We've been here and out of the hospital for hours…"
"You're still authorised officers," Ecklie pointed out. "Even if you are on leave."
"And you've been here all night, right?" Greg asked. "In each other's company."
No one answered that. It was obvious from the sleepwear that they had.
"If you're not comfortable, we can make do," Brass offered, looking to Sara. "We've still got a couple of uniforms down on her front gate, and we can step up patrols in the area. We meant to get this done last night, but things … moved quickly."
It was a nice way of saying that they had fled the hospital as soon as they could – largely due to Catherine's mental state.
Catherine opened her mouth to argue, but Sara waved her down.
"It's okay."
She looked to Finlay, determined to get it done before she lost her nerve.
"Come through."
She led Finlay down to the bedroom, and suddenly wished that she had made the bed, the covers for which were all tossed and twisted. Finlay paid it no attention however, and she was every bit the professional as she set down her case and dug out her camera. Sara went to close the door, but was blocked as Catherine suddenly appeared, having followed her down the hallway.
"Need a hand?" she asked.
Sara could see from the way her blue eyes were focused on her, that the question was a hint, and she nodded, accepting the help.
"Come in," Sara said.
She actually felt all right, but Catherine wandered in, and closed the door behind her. Sara knew perfectly well that she was there because she remembered Sara's anxiety attack at the hospital, where she had been examined under similar circumstances, and also might have been told about her trip to the hospital the night before. That was a trip that Sara, as yet, could not bear to even think about. But she did owe Sofia a thank you, for holding her hand the whole way, and staying so solidly by her side until the others got there.
"I'll chaperone," Catherine told Finlay.
"Not a problem," Finlay replied. She got her camera organised, and passed Sara a dazzling, warm smile. "This will only take a second."
"Sure," Sara said.
She sighed. It was odd – and absolutely irrational – how difficult it was to raise her shirt and expose her chest. She had stripped for many occasions over the course of her life – including not just partners but medical exams, and it had never bothered her. And yet now, after their disappearance and various ordeals, it was surprisingly difficult. What should have been a quick and easy deal was something that she now hesitated on, and although the hesitation was only a split second, Catherine caught it.
"Hold on," she said.
She stalled Sara's movements with a kind hand, and then bellowed out to the house.
"SOFIA?"
In a second Sofia was at the door, cracking it open a discrete inch.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Give us a hand," Catherine commanded.
In a second Sofia was inside, and closed the door.
"I'm okay," Sara protested.
But Sofia surveyed her as she joined the group, her blue eyes raking over her form, taking in every small detail.
"We did just take a vow of honesty," she pointed out. Discretely, she took the camera from Finlay. "It'll be easier if we do this."
"The vow wasn't my idea," Sara said, half joking.
"Nor was it mine," Catherine said darkly, with a look doused in frustration. "But you know he was right."
"That's the irritating thing …" Sara said, feigning a ponderous expression, and the others smiled.
"Stand in the light," Sofia guided.
With a hand to Sara's arm, she guided her over into the best light, and from there it was easy. Sofia took a series of photos, handed the camera to Finlay, and then it was over. Finlay packed the camera away, and then paused on the way out to offer them a heartfelt, sympathetic expression.
"I'm so sorry, for what you're going through…" she began.
"It's hardly your fault," Catherine said, fairly.
"Well, if there's anything we can do …"
"Thanks," Sara said, and she meant it.
Finlay smiled and let herself out. Sofia closed the door after her.
Apparently she was in no hurry whatsoever to get back to the room with Ecklie.
"Thanks," Sara said.
It seemed best to head them off before they started, and the two gave the slightest of nods.
"You're welcome," Sofia said.
"I didn't want to intervene," Catherine explained, "but you looked like you were on the verge of a panic attack."
"Yeah," Sara said.
She felt more comfortable now that Finlay had gone, even if she did like her, and sat on the bed, pondering it a little. For some reason, now felt like the time to be honest.
"It comes on quickly," she said.
"I know what you mean," Catherine confessed, sitting beside her. "I had two nightmares last night. It's hard to shake them."
Feeling that was actually worse, Sara put her hand on the back of Catherine's shoulder, rubbing a little. A discrete conversation with Warrick a few days before had revealed that the nightmares were actually about her losing various members of the group, through starvation, illness and attack – all hypothetical scenarios that could have played out if they had stayed in the alternate world longer. Getting rid of them wasn't going to be easy.
"Wake me if you need to," Sara offered, feeling for her. "You don't have to re-live all that by yourself."
"You're not saying you want to stroll down that particular memory lane again?"
"Not especially," Sara admitted. "Or at least that part. But we're here if you need us."
"It's not for no reason that we're staying over," Sofia pointed out.
"I know," Catherine admitted.
She took a deep breath, stifling something, and Sara sensed she had had enough of discussing it, at least for now.
Sofia spoke up.
"Tell me, how did Grissom react when he saw that bruise?"
"Uh … I took my top off and he didn't even pay attention," Sara concluded, giving an ironic smile.
"That bad?" Catherine queried.
"Awful," Sara said.
Sofia sighed. "He looked pissed off at breakfast. I've never seen him so protective."
"I noticed that," Catherine offered. "I think he's still having trouble digesting everything that happened."
"Last night honestly wasn't that bad," Sara said, truthful. "It happened so fast … I mean, aside from the crowds at the hospital, we didn't even have time to worry."
"It wasn't good, either," Sofia confessed. "But I don't think that's all of it. There's a lot of painful memories he's working through."
"And he doesn't want to talk about them," Catherine added.
"The assault was months ago…" Sara ventured, shaking her head.
"And still vivid," Sofia added. "But there's also your miscarriage, starvation, and death out in the desert. You need to understand that was scary."
"Terrifying," Catherine added.
Sara sighed, internally. There was no way she could take that back, but she had to help.
"Catherine, I've said this before and I'll say it again: I love you, and I am not going anywhere," Sara said, emphatically. "You are not getting rid of me."
"I know," Catherine said.
Her eyes shone through tears, touched. Sara felt her take her hand, and squeezed it.
"Tell that to Grissom," Sofia suggested. "Only put a shirt on when you do."
"Try a sports bra or a cami," Catherine suggested. "It'll cover it."
"Or make-up," Sofia added.
"Yeah," Sara said.
She was pondering the possibilities when there was a sudden thump on the door, followed by a shout from Nick.
"Oi!" he called, through the solid wood. "You three coming out, or what?"
Sofia sighed, irritated.
"Or what," she muttered.
But the three did emerge, and ever professional, wandered out to re-join the meeting. Sara, feeling bad for Grissom, and not caring that everyone was watching, sat herself gently in his lap. His eyes gave the faintest hint of surprise, not least because Ecklie was watching, but he did not shake her off, and Sara stared confidently back at their visitors, beyond caring what they thought. Perhaps, she thought, Catherine had been right – it was their house, and their terms.
As it happened, however, the rest of their visit was not that bad. Aside from a brutal hint from Ecklie that they had to set up a time to meet to discuss their futures – and evidently whether they would be staying on – Brass and Ecklie did hand back their weapons, the senior echelons evidently deciding that the night before had been a wake-up call about their safety. They had them re-issued, though evidently with a petulant disappointment that they were still not volunteering a whole account of events, but apparently their safety outweighed that.
Most of the group were relieved to have them back, and Catherine in particular looked more at ease, at least now knowing that she had a fighting chance of defending herself. Sara, however, had a gut feeling that their armed status was only going to be temporary, or at least only as long as it took most of them to make a decision about their future. She made a note in the back of her mind to purchase a weapon for the house, lest trouble arose, and knew that the presence of one would probably settle the group's anxiety.
It was later that night that she had a chance for some quiet time with Grissom. Sofia and Nick had retreated back to Dianne's house, reassured now that everyone was okay, and Catherine and Warrick were cosied up on the couch, watching a late-night movie. Sara left them to it, and after a hot shower to wash the stress of the day off of her, followed Grissom into the bedroom, where she closed the door.
He was sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in an old grey T-shirt and sleep shorts, his grey hair sexy in the moonlight. She moved to sit beside him, and ran a hand down his thick hair to his shoulder.
"Hey," she said.
He looked up, unsurprised.
"Hey," he said.
He looked utterly lost in thought, and she considered that now was as good a time as any.
"You want to talk?" she invited.
"If you'd like," he replied.
He stared ahead, focused on the wall, neither open nor closed to the idea of a chat.
"If you need to talk about last night, we can," she pressed. "If it bothers you."
His eyes snapped to hers.
"I should be asking if you're okay."
"You know I'm fine. Sofia took care of me. And to be honest, I don't think bruises are our biggest problem."
His face fell.
"No, they're not," he agreed.
But he did not elaborate further, and his eyes returned to a non-descript spot on the floor, deep in thought, his shoulders hunched almost in surrender.
"You know, I'm not going anywhere," she said, following Sofia's advice. "I'm okay, and I will continue to be okay. I love you. This isn't going to strike us down."
He turned to look at her, and through his fatigue, a soft glow of admiration hit his eyes.
"I admire your strength," he confessed.
He rubbed her bare knee – she wore only panties and a shirt, though she had put some concealer on the bruise itself, disguising it – and he leaned in to kiss her, his whiskers brushing her cheek.
"I love you too," he confessed. "But perhaps some things just need time. Some memories are good memories, but the reality is, a few aren't. And the ones that aren't may need time to fade."
"Then focus on the good ones," Sara insisted. "And if you can't talk to me, talk to the others. Let it out. You were right that honesty is the best way through this. We can't bottle it up."
"I know."
He breathed in, deeply, conceding that she was right, and then he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, not much at all, but it slowly lingered on, producing more, until they gradually started to make love there on the bed. Later, she wondered if Catherine had heard anything, as the foreplay went on for quite a while – certainly longer than usual - but if she did she did not mention it later. But the fact remained that it had been the first time they had made love since their return, since the loss of their baby and her resuscitation, and the slow, gentle pace, with the moonlight streaming through the window, made it perfect.