Chapter 13

Sara was sat at the back of the ambulance, resting on the step used to enter the van. It was the closest she would allow them to take her. Sara knew, if they bundled her up inside, they would instantly take her to Desert Palms. She had just left that place; she wasn't planning on going back any time soon.

The ringing in her ears had reduced somewhat. Her back ached and her head was pounding, but other than that, she was fine. Completely fine. Why wouldn't they let her start processing the scene? She could see Morgan had already started. The light of her camera flashing over the debris the CSI two was documenting.

The scene was getting busier as more and more people arrived. Uniformed officers, paramedics, firefighters. The fire had been put out and the bomb squad were currently sweeping the area. So far, nothing else had been found. But they still had the rest of the house to clear.

Sara had managed to get the bomb squad to agree to let them process as they went. Following after the team while they cleared the rooms. Hopefully it would speed things up. She wanted this scene wrapped up as soon as possible.

Lights flashed and Sara watched as the other ambulance drove away, carrying Brass. He would probably need to stay at the hospital a couple of days, but there was a sense of relief as she watched him go. It could have been so much worse. Like the Eclipse, the explosion was concentrated. Nowhere near as destructive as it could have been. Brass was lucky. Sara was lucky.

Greg was on the phone, hopefully speaking to Russell, asking for help. They were going to need it. He hung up and made his way over to her. The paramedic currently wrapping her head finished his task and jumped into the back of the van.

"How is she?" Greg asked him.

"She's probably gunna need stiches," the paramedic said from behind her.

"You can do that, can't you, Mike?" Sara asked.

"I'm not supposed to, Sara. You know that," Mike replied, giving her a stern look. Sara just grinned at him. She had known the EMT for years and Sara knew, if she pressed him, Mike would give in. Meaning she wouldn't have to go to the hospital or be left with an ugly scar across her head.

"Was that Russell?" Sara asked, turning back to Greg. A wave of light-headedness hit her at the movement. She lifted her hand and placed it, gingerly, on her head. Trying to calm the wave.

"No, Catherine," Greg said, he put his hands in his pocket and shifted slightly on his feet, watching her intently.

"You told her what happened?"

Greg nodded, then, after a slight pause, added, "Grissom was with her."

Sara dropped her hand. "You told him?" Greg nodded and Sara let out a sigh. That wasn't how she wanted Grissom to find out, but at least Catherine was with him. "How was he?"

"I don't know, Sara. You know what Grissom is like, he has a better poker face than most professionals."

He did at that. Sara could count on one hand the times his mask had slipped, unintentionally. Sara was sure, she was the only person who truly saw him with his guard down. Relaxed. Open.

"You need to call Russell," Sara said, eventually. She couldn't do anything for Grissom right then, she'll check on him when she got back to the lab. "See if he can send Nick or Finn out to help. Then help Morgan gather the bomb fragments. We need to put it together and see if there are any similarities to the bomb from the Eclipse." Sara looked over the scene, her mind running with all that needed to be done. Bombings were messy, and more often than not they were left with more evidence than they knew what to do with.

"We also need to get the evidence from the house back to the lab. The blood in the living room probably doesn't belong to Lady Heather, so we need to find out who's it is."

"Did you find anything in the office?" Greg asked.

"A laptop," Sara replied. "And some recordings. Looks like they might be session tapes. There were at least three missing. I'll ask Archie to take a look. He might be able to give us some names."

Sara looked over at the car, water covering every inch. Destroying any potential trace. The coroners van arrived, and David Phillips jumped out. His rounded face anxious as he surveyed the scene though his glassed. When he finally saw them, he gave Sara a friendly wave. Picking his way through the crowd toward them.

"Are you ok?" The assistant coroner asked.

"I'm fine," Sara replied with a smile. "As soon as the fire department clears the car, I'll give you a hand with the body."

"You're not going anywhere, Sara Sidle," Mike said from the van, his dark face serious as he looked at the CSI's. "Not until I tell you otherwise."

"I'll do it," Greg said before Sara could even open her mouth. "Morgan can collect the bomb fragments and I'll help David with the body. Then start processing the car."

"Fine," Sara conceded. "Call Russell first, though."

"Yes, ma'am," Greg said, with a smirk. Sara lips tilted up and she shook her head as the two men walked away. Mike jumped out of the ambulance and stood in front of her, dish, needle, and suture in hand. He pulled the bandage away from her head. Thankfully the wound was small and had already stopped bleeding. Any larger, or deeper, and Sara knew they would have dragged her to the hospital. Kicking and screaming if they had too.

With practiced movements, Mike stitched up her head. He was just cutting the thread when Sara heard tires screech over the gravel. Doors slammed and Grissom's panicked voice penetrated her ears.

"Greg, where is she?"

Mike stepped out of her line of sight and Sara saw Grissom and Catherine rushing over to her. Grissom's eyes were frantically searching her face and they fell on her freshly stitched up forehead. When he reached them, it looked as if he were holding himself back. Like he wanted to launch himself at her. Sara was grateful for the restraint. Though she would never admit it, her body was a little sore.

"Are you ok?" He asked her, stepping closer.

"I'm fine," she said, offering him a small smile. Grissom raised a hand and gently brushed across her hair line, inches above the wound.

"Honey, this doesn't look good," he said, softly and his eyes met hers. There was pain, and fear, and relief. And, right at the back, hidden from everyone but her… grief. Sara reached up and took his hand, bringing it down to her lap.

"It's fine, Gil. Honestly." She gave him a soft, lopsided smile, and Grissom face relaxed.

Catherine was hovering to the side and Sara glanced up at her. The older woman was looking at her with concern. But after a quick assessment, she smiled. Clearly satisfied Sara was telling the truth, or at least most of it.

"I'm going to go check in with Morgan," Catherine said. "Greg's speaking to Russell now, we should get some help coming in." The redhead gave Sara another once over, before walking over to Morgan. Mike came back, with a fresh bandage in hand. Grissom shifted to the left, allowing the paramedic room without letting go of Sara's hand.

With the dressing in place, Mike straightened up and wrote something down on his incident sheet. Probably details of the treatment he provided.

"Ok," he said. "Sit tight for a few more minutes, then you'll be good to go."

"Shouldn't she go to the hospital?" Grissom asked, dropping Sara's gaze to look at the EMT.

"Well, I'd be happier if she did," Mike started, but Sara interrupted them. This point had already been argued, and won. She wasn't going to have it again with Grissom.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," she said, firmly. Taking her hand from Grissom's grip. His eyes flickered at the loss of contact, but he didn't say anything. Just flexed his fingers as he pulled them away.

"Sara, you were almost blown up," Grissom said, his voice infuriatingly calm, as if he were speaking to a child. Not patronising, but gentle. Soothing. Still, with the thin thread her emotions were balancing on, that tone was enough to raise Sara's temper. She stood up, pushing away the dizziness that accompanied her sudden movement, and stared Grissom down.

"I'm well aware of that, Gil. I was there." Her mouth was pursed, desperately trying to stop any words escaping she might regret later.

"Exactly," Grissom said, his own temper rising. "So, I think you should at least…"

"You think?" Sara cut across him. She leant back a bit and crossed her arms over her chest. Her voice was low and furious. "You lost the right to tell me what you think I should, or shouldn't do a long time ago, Grissom."

She regretted them the moment the words left her mouth. Grissom's head jerked back as if she had slapped him. Something like a tremor ran across his face, so slight and small. Sara might have missed it had she not been looking.

She didn't mean it. It wasn't true. She wanted to say something, to apologise, to take it back. But the words wouldn't come. She could feel her mouth opening and closing, as if it too wanted to retract the statement. Nostrils flared as she tried to stop the tears from gathering in her eyes. Her arms dropped as she watched Grissom's mask fall firmly back into place.

"You're right," Grissom finally said. His voice flat, resigned. "I have lost that right. I, uh, as long as you're ok, I suppose." Sara's heart broke. Grissom turned to leave, but she reached for his arm, stopping him.

"Gil," she said. "I… I'm…"

"It's alright, Sara," Grissom said, still keeping his voice as neutral as he could.

"No," she replied, her grip on his arm tightening. "I, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. To see everything, she wasn't yet ready to say. Ready to admit. Grissom frowned a little, as if he couldn't quite believe what she was silently screaming at him.

"Sara," he said, leaning towards her once more.

"Hey, Sara," Mike called, and the couple started. "Is this yours? I think I fell out of your pocket." He held up his hand. Between his thumb and forefinger, Mike held her wedding ring.

Sara glanced at Grissom. His eyes were flicking between the ring and Sara, understanding dawning over his face.

"Thanks, Mike," Sara said as she reached to take it. She was about to slip it back in her pocket when Grissom's hand shot out. He held her hand and tipped it, palm up, so the ring was resting in the centre. He was trembling.

Sara looked up at him, directly into his face. He was staring at the ring, his mouth slightly open. Grissom's chest rose as he took a breath and met her eyes. The blue orbs were bright. So bright, Sara was sure they could blind a person. She was drowning in them.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

"Sara." Greg's voice sounded from behind Grissom, and the older man startled a little, dropping Sara's hand as he turned. Sara closed her fingers over the ring as Greg drew level with them. "Russell wants you back at the lab, he's going to send Finn over to give us a hand."

Sara mentally shook herself; they were in the middle of a crime scene. The burnt body of one of Grissom's closest friends was, at that moment, being put in the coroner's van on its was to be autopsied. Now was not the time. Now was not the moment. Soon, Grissom would remember what happened to Lady Heather. It would hit him, and he would need Sara to be there. This was not about her right now.

"Thanks Greg," she said. Be professional, Sara. Work the case and talk after. "Can you put the evidence from the house in the SUV, I'll take it back with me."

"Are you alright to drive?" Greg asked her, eyes going to the bandage on her head.

"I'll take her," Grissom offered.

"Have you started on the car yet?" Sara asked.

"No," Greg replied. "David's got the body." He shot Grissom a quick look before continuing. "I'll get started on it now."

"Great," Sara replied. She was watching Grissom, out of the corner of her eye. His face had gone blank. Eyes flicking back to the car. She'd need to keep an eye on him. "Do a once over here, then have it taken back to the lab."

"Will do," Greg replied.

"How's Morgan getting on with the bomb collection?"

"There's a lot of fragments," Greg said, looking over his should. "But once Finn gets here, it should go a lot faster."

"Ok," Sara replied. "I want everything taken back to the lab for comparison."

"You got it," Greg said before turning back to the scene. Sara looked over at Grissom, his gaze still fixed on the car.

"Gil?" Her voice was soft. "Are you alright?" Grissom shook his head a little and glanced back at her. She could see the sadness he was so desperately trying to keep in.

"Yeah," he said on a sigh. He was lying. She knew he was, but Sara wasn't going to press him. Not right then.

"Come on," she said and put her hand in his. "Greg's just loading the evidence into the car, then we can go." She pulled Grissom around the scene. Careful to keep herself between him and Lady Heather's burnt-out car.

Greg and Morgan walked out of the house, both carrying bags of evidence, and made their way to the SUV Grissom and Catherine borrowed. Sara looked round for her former colleague, who was talking on the phone on the other side of the drive. Sara nodded to the car, but Catherine shook her head and waved them away.

Grissom was still staring into space when Greg shut the boot and walked around the vehicle. The younger man looked up at Grissom, as lost for words as she was at that moment.

"Hey, Grissom," Greg said, softly. "I'm sorry. About Lady Heather.

Grissom's hand tightened on hers. "Thanks, Greg." His voice was expressionless, but Greg didn't take offence.

"You're running point," Sara said, once the younger man turned to her. "Catch Finn up when she arrives, and make sure everything is documented and catalogued before it goes back to the lab. I don't want anything missed on this."

"Yes, ma'am," Greg said. But there was no teasing in his voice this time, just assurance and respect. Sara nodded and her friend walked away. She turned back to Grissom who was watching her. Something like pride lighting his face.

"That looks good on you," he said.

"What?"

"Being in charge. Handing out assignments."

Sara shook her head and let out a soft chuckle before making her way to the passenger seat. They were silent for a while as Grissom pulled out onto the road, heading towards the lab. Sara was looking out the window, her mind running over everything they knew so far, everything that had happened. Trying to work out who might be behind it all. No answers came to her. No epiphany. No great realisation. It was like they were driving in the dark, with no clue as to where their final destination would be.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Grissom asked, after a while.

"What?"

"Taking the job? Supervisor? Running the team?"

Sara didn't answer right away. Yes, she had thought about it. She had thought about it a lot. Especially over the last couple of years.

It was a definite ambition of hers when she had first started out, to someday make it to the top. But now?

"You'd be good at it," Grissom continued. "You're professional, respectful. You've certainly got the brains for the job, and I can't see you having any opposition here." There was a truth to that. Both Russell and Ecklie had talked to her about it, months ago. Barbra wanted to move back to Seattle, to be closer to their daughter. Russell took her out for coffee, asked if she would be interested in taking over from him. Instead, she…

Grissom glanced over at her. "Well, have you? Thought about it?"

"Yes," Sara said, truthfully.

"And?"

"I do love this job," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "But it's no longer what I want."

"And what do you want?" Grissom asked. They had arrived at the lab, and he pulled into a parking space. He looked over at her as he switched off the ignition. His eyebrows raised in curiosity, but Sara could detect a hint of vulnerability lying beneath the surface.

What do I want?

"Something better," she said softly before opening her door.