Chapter 10

There was so much blood. Too much. Nobody could lose that much blood and walk away. It was everywhere. On the walls, on the ceiling, on the floor.

Heather.

He wasn't thinking. He had to get in there. Grissom moved only to be held back by a small, strong hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sara asked. She pushed him back, but Grissom couldn't take his eyes off the carnage that had overrun a once beautiful room. Sara dropped her hand and reached for her phone. "Control, this is CSI Sidle, we need backup at the Kessler residence ASAP."

"Copy, CSI Sidle, units have been advised," the operator spoke.

"Stay here," Sara said to him. Grissom looked over at her as she raised her gun once more and moved towards the door. That alone broke him from his trance. He shot out a hand and grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.

"You're not going in there," he said, fiercely.

"I need to clear it."

"You're not a cop, Sara," Grissom said.

"And you're not my supervisor, Gil," Sara retorted, and she pulled her arm out of his grip. "Heather might still be in there. If she is, she might be injured. I need to check it out."

No, Grissom had worked enough crime scenes in his time to know, with that much blood, whoever the victim is will most likely be dead. Grissom didn't want to think of the state his friend would be in, if that blood belonged to her. And he definitely did not want Sara walking into an unknown scene.

"What if the suspect is still in there?"

"That's what the gun is for," Sara said. "Stay here."

"I'm not letting you go in there alone," he said, walking up behind her.

"And what exactly do you plan to do if we meet the suspect? Lecture them?" She raised an eyebrow at him. God, this woman was so stubborn. But Grissom didn't back down. He was not going to let her win this one.

"Would you let me go in alone?" He asked her. "If the roles were reversed, would you happily stand out here and wait for me?"

Sara didn't answer. He knew she wouldn't. She would never let him walk into a situation like this, even if she were as unarmed and helpless as he was. Sara would rather walk through fire, than allow someone she loved to go into danger alone.

"Stay behind me," she hissed and turned back to the door. Grissom kept close, ready to pull her away at the last second if he needed too. Sara held her gun up and cleared the corners of the room, before making her way to the other side. The proceeded like that, slowly through the ground floor of the house.

Every move, every sound had Grissom looking for the source. Searching for any sign of her. There was a basement. Could she be there? All of the carnage was confined to the living room. Nothing suggested that the kil- suspect went to any other part of the house. But that didn't mean that they hadn't.

Grissom took a step closer to Sara, not able to shake the feeling that they were being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. But there was nothing. No one. Once the rooms were cleared, Sara turned to the stairs.

Just as she took the first step, footsteps sounded behind them. Sara spun around and pushed Grissom behind her, shielding him. Grissom pressed his chest to her back, a hand on her waist. Fingers contracting, gripping onto her. Heart pounding.

Sara lowered her gun as Officer's Mitch and Akers entered the house.

"You should have stayed outside, Sara," Mitch said, disapprovingly.

"I was looking for Dr Kessler," Sara said as she holstered her weapon. "She might be injured." Sara was well aware, the possibility of finding Heather alive was slim. Especially if all that blood belonged to her. All the evidence suggested that Heather… yet Sara was acting like she would find a person, rather than a body. For him. Injecting optimism for him. Looking… for him.

He was a fool. A stupid, brainless fool. Heather had told him… Heather. Oh, God. He needed to get out of there. Needed to clear his head. Needed… The hand on Sara's waist pulled. She allowed him to pull her closer, and Grissom grounded himself in the feel of her.

"Still," Mitch replied. "You should have waited. Did you clear the area?"

"Downstairs is clear, we didn't get a chance to look up yet."

"Ok, we'll do that. You two wait outside."

Sara nodded and, with a quick look back at Grissom, made her way to the front door. Grissom followed after her, forcing himself not to look at the blood surrounding them. Once they made it outside, Grissom gripped onto the wall lining the porch. He could hear Sara on the phone beside him, but the words didn't register.

Who did this? Heather, what have you gotten yourself into?

"Greg and Morgan are on their way," Sara said, and she leant back against the wall, facing Grissom. "They're going to help me process the scene."

Grissom could only nod. Not able to speak. Not trusting his voice right then. If he hadn't been holding onto the wall, his hands would be shaking. Revealing just how much this affected him, how much… He kept his posture relaxed, not allowing the tension to set in. His face void of any emotion. If anyone else had been with him, had been watching him, they would accept the persona he was putting out. Gruesome Grissom. Robot man. They wouldn't notice. Wouldn't see.

But he wasn't with anyone else.

Sara raised her hand and, after hesitating for a second, placed it over his. Entwining their fingers.

"It might not be her, Gil," she said, softly. "That blood can belong to anyone."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Grissom replied, resignation lacing each word. He stroked a thumb across Sara's finger, grounding himself in her touch. "Either that blood is hers, and if it is, we both know she is most likely dead." His voice caught a little. Sara gripped his hand tighter. "Or it belongs to someone else and Heather… Heather might actually…" he couldn't finish the sentence; he just closed his eyes and hung his head. He heard Sara shift next to him then felt a hand on his face. Grissom looked up. She was staring right at him.

No mask. No false bravery. Just Sara, looking into him as only she can.

"You're the one who said this wasn't her." Grissom opened his mouth, but Sara brushed her thumb over his lips, stopping him. "You know her, Gil. Better than anyone. If this blood isn't hers, there are a thousand different reasons as to why it's there. Do you honestly think she did this?"

"The evidence," Grissom started.

"Forget the evidence," Sara said, sharply, but not unkindly. She shifted closer, her hand still cupping his cheek. "Do you, Gil Grissom, truly believe that Heather Kessler could do all of this? Could set our house on fire? Could send someone into a crowded casino to detonate a bomb?"

Did he believe that?

No. Grissom knew, deep down, that Heather would never knowingly, or intentionally, cause harm to anyone. Sara smiled at him, the first real smile she had given him since he had arrived that morning. It lit her face. Radiating. His guiding light at the end of a dark tunnel.

"Since when did you become Heather's advocate?" He asked her, lips tugging up in a half smile.

"I'm not doing this for Heather, Gil," Sara said, softly. She was so close now. He could smell her shampoo. Count every freckle on her face. The hand on his cheek pulled, ever so slightly. Grissom leaned forward. Every inch of him trembled as Sara's eyes flicked down to his lips.

It was like fire and ice burning through him all at once as her eyes met his once more.

"All clear upstairs," a voice called from the house and the spell was broken. Sara pulled away, instantly. The openness sliding from her in a matter of seconds. She looked over to the door as Mitch exited the house.

"Thanks, Mitch," Sara said, a little breathlessly. Grissom was still staring at her, willing his heart to stop racing. Sara turned back to him, professional mask back in place. "I'm going to start processing the scene," she told him. "Why don't you head back to the lab? I'm sure Catherine could use your help on her Lady Heather profile." Her lips quirked up a little at that.

Grissom didn't relish the idea of leaving Sara alone. After all, it had only been a few hours since she had been released from the hospital. She should be resting. Not working.

As if she could read his mind, Sara said, "I'm fine, Gil. Go."

Sara retrieved her kit from the boot of the SUV and walked away, back into the house. Not giving Grissom a second look, or another chance to argue.

There really wasn't anything for him to do there, he was no longer a CSI. No longer qualified to work a scene. Realistically, he'd either just be in the way, or be sat outside waiting for Sara to finish. Still, he didn't want to leave her.

"It's alright, Dr Grissom," Mitch said. Grissom hadn't even realised the other man was there. "We'll stay with her."

Grissom nodded and, on a sigh, got into the SUV and drove away.