Chapter 17

It had taken almost two hours for Sara to escape the nurturing clutches of her mother-in-law. Betty had been almost frantic when Sara first walked into Catherine's, very large, town house. Scolding her for not coming straight there after the hospital. For going back to work, back out into the field. The only thing that softened the older woman rampage was Sara explaining that she, that they were trying to help a friend of Grissom's. Though purposefully omitting who that friend was.

She had to sit through her mother's fussing for a full half hour, before Sara begged the older woman to let her take a shower and change. Betty had followed her up the stairs. It wasn't until Sara was locked away in the bathroom did she finally have a moment to herself. The warm water was soothing over her aching body. The stress of the day washing down the drain with the grime and sweat that had caked itself in her skin and hair.

Steam swirled around her, clearing her senses. Clearing her mind. The gold of her wedding band glinting in the florescent lights of the bathroom. The events of the last two days washed over her. Her conversation with Russell. The fire. The hospital. Grissom.

The conversations they had. The look in his eyes. She wasn't ready, not yet. But putting her ring back on was the first step. Seeing him again, being near him. Talking to him. Touching him. It only cemented within her that she wasn't ready to let go. She didn't want to. She wanted…

Before that, she needed her answers. Needed to know what he wanted. No more riddles or talking around the subject.

Not wanting to aggravate the wound on her head any further, Sara opted to leave her hair alone. Allowing it to curl around her shoulders as it dried. She did, however, make a little more effort with her face. More than she was wont too over the last few years.

Of course, it wasn't because of Grissom. She just wanted to look nice, feel good. And, after the day she had just had, no one could blame her. It definitely had nothing to do with Grissom…

Betty had asked about the cut to her forehead and Sara decided it probably wasn't the best idea to tell the elder Mrs Grissom about the explosion. Not if she wanted to get back to the lab that month. She made up some excuse, someone had opened a door which hit her, which seemed to pacify her interrogator. Not enough to stop her from asking about Grissom, however.

He hadn't contacted his mother since the text he sent, earlier that morning. Nothing surprising there. Grissom wasn't the greatest communicator at the best of times. And these certainly weren't the best of times. Sara promised Betty, she would try and get her son to at least call her when she got back to the lab.

After another hour, in which Betty had bullied Sara into eating a light dinner, Catherine had called. Heather wasn't the woman in the car. It was her patient, the girl who looked so much like her. She and Russell were on their way to tell Grissom, but not before asking her to come back in. They needed her. Grissom needed her. Sara left within minutes. After a quick and uninformative explanation to Betty, and a promise she would come back soon.

Now, she was pulling up in the lab's car park. The orange glow of the streetlights lighting her way. It was getting late, and Sara knew she wouldn't be able to keep going for much longer without sleep. She had even been tempted to stay at Catherine's for the rest of the evening. To hide away and get some much-needed sleep. Until the woman had called.

Switching off the engine, Sara met her own eyes in the rear-view mirror. She had removed the bandage while in the shower. The gash on her forehead was a little less pronounced, thanks to the colour returning to her face. But it was starting to itch. Sara had to force her hands down, to stop them reaching up to relieve it. Movement in the reflection caught her eyes, and Sara couldn't stop the groan that escaped her lips.

What does he want now?

Sara grabbed her bag and, sliding the strap over her shoulder, opened the door. He was already there, holding the door for her. Jimmy held out his hand. But Sara ignored it, without even a glance, and stepped out.

Jimmy shut the door but kept his hand resting just above the window. Sara had parked next to Finn and, with Jimmy in front of her, there was no way of moving forward. She was not in the mood for this.

"Jimmy," she said, shifting her weight onto one foot. "What are you doing here?"

"I called Nick. He told me you were hurt. I went to Desert Palms, but they told me you hadn't been admitted. I should have known you wouldn't let a little thing like being blown up stop you from working," he said, flashing her a charming smile but Sara was too tired to appreciate it.

"So, you just thought you'd show up at the lab?"

"I wanted to see you," he said, softly.

"Jimmy," Sara sighed. "I don't have time for this, I'm sorry. We're right in the middle of a case."

"I know, but." He hesitated slightly, his eyes alight with something Sara couldn't read. "You shouldn't be working, Sara. You should be at home."

"I can't, we're swamped right now," Sara replied

"You could have a concussion," Jimmy retorted, looking at the stitched cut on her forehead.

"I don't," Sara replied. "I was checked out at the scene."

"By a paramedic, whose no more a doctor than I'm an astronaut."

Sara's eyes narrowed; Jimmy's constant nagging was starting to pull at the already thin thread keeping her anger in place. She hitched her bag further on her shoulder.

"That paramedic knows more about concussions than you do, Doctor." She almost spat the words out, trying to keep a hold of her temper. But Jimmy wasn't listening. He was staring at the hand she had used to adjust her shoulder strap. More specifically, the ring she had put back on her finger.

Something like betrayal crossed Jimmy's face. His skin turned pale. With pain? No, Sara realised, anger. His eyes shot back to hers, darker than she had ever seen them. And for the first time since she had known the therapist, Sara felt a little fear as she looked at him.

She backed up, not sure what to do with this sudden switch to his personality, but Jimmy shot out a hand and grabbed onto her wrist. Sara couldn't help the wince of pain as his fingers gripped with a strength, she didn't know he possessed. She tried to pull herself free, but Jimmy's hold was too tight. He brought her hand up to his face, eyes narrowing on the thin gold band gleaming in the streetlight.

"What is this?" He demanded. "I thought you took it off?"

"They," Sara gasped, trying not to let on just how much her friend was hurting her. "They took it off me at the hospital."

"Why did you put it back on? I thought, I thought you, thought we…" He was shaking, Sara could feel the vibration running down her arm. She pulled again and stumbled as he took a step towards her. "You're not going back to him," he growled. His voice was dark and menacing and Sara flinched, but her anger rose to the surface.

How dare he grab her. How dare he tell her what she should or shouldn't do.

"It's none of your business, Jimmy," she said, her voice raising and her eyes flashing. Sara pulled her arm once more, this time wrenching it from his grip. Her feet slipped from under her, and she put her hand out to the car to steady herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a hint of a bruise already forming on her wrist.

Sara pulled the sleeve on her jacket, covering the mark, and narrowed her eyes on the man before her. He looked as if he were carved from stone. His hand still raised. Face a mask of fury. Shoulders taught. He was radiating the sort of vehemence she herself had, when confronted with a particularly nasty suspect. The thought unnerved her, but Sara wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated.

"What I do with my life is no one's business, but my own," she spat out. "If I chose to go back to my husband, it has nothing to do with you." Sara gave him the most contemptuous look she could muster, before turning around and walking away.

Jimmy moved faster that she thought. One moment she was rounding the back of the SUV, and the next she was pushed up against the boot. One hand trapped between her back and the metal.

"He's not your husband, Sara" Jimmy said, his voice low and chilling. Sara raised her free hand to push him away, but Jimmy pinned it to the window. She could feel her bracelet cutting into skin as the pressure increased. He was close, pressed against her. She could feel the heat of his breath resting over her face. "He didn't want you. Why can't you see that?"

"Jimmy," Sara gasped, trying to twist her body away. "Stop!"

"I want you, Sara. I love you, not him!" The words were said with such a ferocity, venom lacing each syllable. Nothing he had done to that point had scared her as much as his declaration. It was primal, possessive. Sara turned her head as Jimmy's face drew closer, but his hand gripped her jaw and yanked it round.

Lips crushed against hers. Forceful and unyielding. Trapped, unable to move between his body and the car, Sara's heart pounded wildly in her chest. Thumping began in her ears as fear locked her limbs. Panic flooding her. Jimmy's hand dropped from her jaw, and started to glide down to her shoulder, her chest. Sara thrashed against him, but he only pressed further into her.

She cried out; the sound muffled by his mouth. Jimmy forced his tongue through her lips and Sara bit down. Hard.

Jimmy's head shot back, swearing as he spat blood onto the floor. His hold loosened enough that Sara was able to push against him, bringing her knee up and connecting it with his most sensitive area.

The man she had once considered a friend, doubled over before her and Sara pushed him against the car. The force was enough to set the alarm.

She should run. Should get as far away from the doctor as she could. But her body wouldn't move. Her head was spinning. She could hear someone calling her name. Someone else was dragging Jimmy from the floor. A flurry of activity was going on around her, but Sara took no notice.

It wasn't until a hand touched her shoulder did she move. Flinching and scurrying away, Sara put a car between her and scene before she realised Greg was calling to her.

The younger CSI was watching her with a mixture of pain and rage. The latter of which, she released, was not directed to her. He held up his hands, palms towards her, as he approached. His steps were slow and deliberate, trying to prove to her that he was no threat.

"Sara?" He called, his voice soft and Sara let out a shaky breath. "Are you ok?"

"I," she started. No, she was not ok. "I'm ok," she said, unconsciously wrapping her arms around her waist. She looked over his shoulder and saw two security guards pinning Jimmy against her SUV. Neither of them taking particular care, and she could hear the impact with the vehicle as they turned him around. His hands cuffed behind his back.

"Sara," he breathed. The anger from a moment before had disappeared from his face and he looked horrified by what he had done. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"You don't talk to her," Greg spat out, turning to his former friend. Shaking with the rage he was trying so hard to control.

"I didn't, I never wanted…" Jimmy started, but one of the guards, a big man by the name of Carl, shook him.

"He said, shut up," Carls deep voice boomed. His dark face contorted into a snarl as he looked at Jimmy.

"You should go inside," Suzie, the other guard, said to Sara. She looked to Greg and nodded. Greg took a deep breath before turning back to Sara. He held out his hand, like he would take her arm, but held back. Waiting for her to make the first move. Sara stepped forward and her body relaxed as she felt the comfortable weight of Greg's hand on her elbow. Suzie handed him Sara's bag, which she had dropped when Jimmy attacked her, and the CSI steered his friend in the direction of the lab. Careful to keep his body between Sara and Jimmy.

"Sara, please," Jimmy pleaded. Sara paused and Greg's hand tightened slightly on her arm. She turned back to the man; all emotion gone from her face.

"Stay away from me, Jimmy," she said in a colourless voice, and turned her back to him once more.