THE SILVER LINING – THE TRUTH
Rated: T, adult themes
Please note that this story will make no sense unless you have read 'The Silver Lining' first. This story is a companion piece/sequel, and features missing scenes toward the end of the story that explains in more depth the turning point in the group's recovery, telling the story, and their healing.
In my mind, the events in this story always happened, but they never fit into the original fic, as I felt pressure to pick up the mood, keep the pace, and provide a happy ending. But here is the rest, for those curious. To those who PM'd me wanting a little more, and some answers … here it is! (Even if it is a bit late)
As regards to timeline, this fic is at approximately between chapters 29 and 31 of the original.
In the week after their return, and their retreat to Dianne Curtis' house, Sara watched as her friends picked themselves up, and attempted to stitch their lives back together. In the first few days they did nothing but rest, their bodies all needing time to heal and recuperate, but as their minds were gradually released from the shell-shock of what had happened, other priorities began to slowly seep in.
First of all was taking back control of their affairs, which had been in the hands of the courts, and they all had to sift through a wad of paperwork and a meeting with the authorities to regain control of their finances, and have all their ID re-issued. There were also leave forms and insurance forms to be filled in for the LVPD, allowing them paid leave, and once that was finished there were other things which various members of the team regarded as high priorities.
For Catherine, this meant a haircut, an act which the team joined her in, and it was lucky that her mother, Lily Flynn, had a friend who was happy to come to the house to do this. Once they were all spruced up, and nine months of re-growth had been dealt with, it was their families who suggested that they all needed new clothes, their clothes now hanging on them due to their immense weight loss. The result was a shopping trip, and Sara joined Catherine and Sofia in a trip to the mall, buying new underwear, bras and shirts, under the watchful, protective escort of Lily Flynn and Dianne Curtis.
In new clothes, and with her hair trimmed, Sara finally felt a bit refreshed, and after a large take-away steak dinner that evening – which apparently for Nick and Warrick was an essential part of their homecoming – it was actually Warrick who suggested that they needed to leave the house, and do something.
"I feel cooped up," he complained, with an apologetic look to the rest of them in their bedroom that evening.
Sara, sat cross-legged on her mattress in her new pyjamas, looked on with sympathy. The first week back had been hard, largely because of the impossibility of explaining to their families what had happened, knowing they would never be believed, and the result was that everyone milled around at the house all day, their families watching their every move, scrutinising them from morning til nightfall. It was only after they retreated to the bedroom at night that the six of them could talk alone – and it was a relief.
"I know what you mean," Nick said. He ran his hands over his face, exhausted and drained. "If I have to do one more bit of small talk …"
"One more comment on the weather," Sofia agreed.
"One more look questioning us …" Catherine said, trailing off.
Catherine sat on her own mattress, in brand-new blue satin pyjamas, looking as close to perfect, at least physically, as she ever had. Nevertheless, Sara knew her too well, and could see in her the signs of trauma that their families often missed. It had not escaped her attention that Catherine had peeked out the bedroom window before sitting down to join them, her blue eyes doing a guarded sweep of the landscape outside, or that whenever the group were outside or in the barn she kept glancing over her shoulder, as though she expected trouble any minute. Sara knew that her hypervigilance was going to take some time to heal – there was no getting around it – and she also knew that Catherine was nowhere near ready to return to Vegas, or to anywhere with people.
"Maybe we could get out of here," Grissom suggested. "Do something together. A day trip, perhaps."
"That sounds good," Sara said. "Somewhere out of town."
"Mount Charleston?" Catherine suggested.
In the end that's what they did, and two days later the group drove up to a remote hiking trail on Mount Charleston, with only Dianne and Brass accompanying them. Lindsey was at school, with Lily Flynn also having an appointment, and with Nick's family making preparations to return to Texas it allowed the group a quiet day with comparative privacy.
The sun was shining, with summer on the way, and Sara stepped out of their SUV in hiking boots and a brand-new pair of shorts, pushing up her long-missed pair of sunglasses on to the top of her head. The scenery was rugged and stunning, and after she threw on her backpack they hiked for a while uphill, before eventually stopping at a lookout point near the top. They lingered there, standing on the rocks, and Sara took in the view of rugged Nevada.
Nevada, a desert state, was not something she had really appreciated before their experience in the wilderness. She was a California girl, a beach girl through and through, and had at first resented Las Vegas when she had moved there. She had despised its blinding hot sun, its crazy people, but Grissom had been there, and the job had been good, and so she had stayed. But now, she gazed out at the rolling hills of desert, some rocky outcrops and resilient plant life making up the view, and after admiring it for a moment she sensed Grissom move, needing some shade.
"Let's sit down," he said.
She sighed, and sweating herself, followed the group a short way over to some trees. She saw that Dianne and Jim had stopped at the railing, and were lost in a private and relaxed conversation, and under the tree Sara threw her backpack down and drew her water bottle, taking a swig of welcome fluid.
"You know, Sara," Sofia said, eyeing her from behind her own sunglasses, her blonde hair up in a ponytail, "don't take this the wrong way, but your legs are insane."
"Thanks," Sara said, offering her a smile.
It was not the first time in her life she had been told this, and Sara was used to the compliment, and her relationship with her friends was so strong that she thought nothing of it. As she watched, Sofia drew her own water bottle, leaning back comfortably against a boulder, but apparently the group was not done with complimenting her legs.
"They go on forever," Warrick observed.
"I've often thought they should come with a warning label," Grissom joked.
He looked oddly casual, and cheeky, a playful smile on his lips, his overall demeanour far different to the team leader he had long left behind. He wore a wide brim hat, and he grinned as Sara's eyes flew up to meet his.
He simply stood there, utterly comfortable with himself, and unscrewed the cap from his water bottle as he smiled, toying with her. She grinned in return, and was debating the best flirtatious response when Nick cut in.
"Don't start flirting," he said.
"We might have to separate them," Warrick joked.
"You know, I'm impressed you've remained celibate this long, I didn't think you had it in you."
"Yeah, well," Sara said, "that's not by choice."
She threw another grin to Grissom, and he hesitated before smiling back. The memory of their miscarriage was still fresh between them, but Sara, for once, felt at ease with it. Things were different now, much improved since their return, and her spirits had been greatly healed by her physical recovery. The bleeding had stopped, the pain gone, and though she had a residual faintness, she knew that was only temporary. And at the rate Dianne Curtis was fattening her up, always insisting she ate enough at mealtimes, it was not a problem that was going to stay around for long.
Nevertheless, she sensed Catherine's eyes on her, evaluating whether she was okay, and she also sensed them deviate for the briefest moment to the team, critical of them for raising the subject at all.
"I'm okay," Sara told her, saving them the trouble.
"Are you sure?" Catherine asked.
"I'm fine."
Catherine nodded to herself and sat down, accepting her word, but it was at that moment that Sara realised they had lost Sofia. Though Sofia had been engaged in the conversation not a few seconds earlier, she was now looking out at the never-ending desert, lost in thought, her shoulders slightly hunched.
Sara glanced to Catherine beside her, who had also noticed, and then – with Jim and Dianne still out of earshot – thought perhaps it was the right time to address it.
"Sofia?" she queried.
Sofia came to, looking like she had almost forgotten they were there.
"You okay?" Sara went on.
Nick looked up at her, having not realised, and in a flash motioned for his partner to sit down and join them. Sighing, she pushed her sunglasses up and sat down with him, tiredly rubbing her eyes.
"You didn't sleep?" Grissom asked, appearing concerned.
"Not lately," she replied.
Her eyes were locked on to her mother, who was still happily chatting with Brass. Although Dianne had looked their way once or twice, keeping track of them, she seemed content to let them have some privacy together.
"What's up?" Nick asked. "Anything we can help with?"
Nick looked at her with concern, inviting her to talk, but for a long moment she did not reply. She simply gazed out at the landscape, at her mother, as though the weight of the world was back on her shoulders. As usual, she struggled to find the words.
"Is it your Mom?" Warrick guessed, following her gaze.
"It's awkward," Sofia said, sighing at last. "More awkward than I thought it would be."
Considering how awkward Sara knew she had thought it would be, the admission that it was even more difficult was, to Sara, a significant one. Nor was it a surprise. Though Dianne Curtis had shown exemplary patience, not to mention kindness and thoughtfulness in taking them all in, Sara knew that the story sat between them like an elephant in the room. Though the group had given Sofia permission of sorts to tell it, should the need arise, they knew she had not considered actually doing it – until now.
Sensing the conversation coming, Sara plotted her words carefully.
"Would you like to tell her?" she invited.
Sitting there in the dirt, Sara sensed all her friend's eyes slowly turn to Sofia, eyeing her carefully. She knew the entire group had a lot to lose if the story got out – it would bring them unwanted fame, notoriety, and even potential criminal charges, but she also knew, just as well as the group, that they had to balance that with the mental health of everyone present. It was no good staying silent, and avoiding all the pitfalls of being thought crazy, if the end result was that one or more of her precious friends did not recover from the experience. Sara knew full well, better than anyone present, how dangerous PTSD could be, how much it could still ruin their lives … if she let it.
"I don't know," Sofia replied, emitting another heavy sigh. "I don't think I could, even if I wanted to."
"Why's that?" Grissom asked, politely.
But Sara answered for her.
"Because it's too hard to talk about? Too much?"
Sofia's blue eyes lifted a fraction to meet hers, and she gave the slightest nod.
"Yeah," she said. "Perhaps."
Sara nodded to herself. She sighed, gathering her thoughts.
She thought through her words carefully, and let her eyes do a quick lap of the group before responding. She took in each of her friends' body language, their unspoken position on the issue. Most notably, beside her, Catherine was sitting quietly, looking daunted, and not commenting at all.
Nevertheless, Sara had to be honest.
"You know what I think?" she asked, carefully.
"What?" Sofia replied.
"I think you should tell her."
The reaction from the group was immediate. Catherine's eyes popped wide open and gave her a sidelong look, terrified, and Warrick took in a sharp, silent breath, equally daunted. Nick, next to Sofia, had taken her hand to comfort her, but seemed now stalled for words, and the only one who seemed to be on the same page as Sara was Grissom, who nodded gently, as though he had long expected it.
"I agree," he said.
He still looked like he had wished it had not come to that, but now they were in that position, was a realist all the same.
Sofia said nothing. Her eyes fell to the ground for a moment, deep in thought, weighing it up.
"The way I see it," Sara went on, "it's pointless us all coming through this if we're only going to be defeated by a brutal helping of PTSD. The reality is that a lot of those memories are horrific, and that as much as there are good ones, there is also pain. And the only way we're going to be able to deal with that, long term, is to have the right support systems in place. And … if your Mom is a part of that, if it would help, then I think it's worth considering."
"There's also risks," Warrick said, seeming alert.
"Agreed," Sara said.
"Can we trust her?" Grissom asked. "To keep that kind of secret?"
"To take it to the grave," Catherine added, with a serious look in Sofia's direction, leaving them in no doubt as to the severity of what was at stake.
"Yeah," Sofia said, and for the first time she looked up, and nodded. But almost immediately her certainty faltered. "But …"
"It's still a lot to handle," Grissom said, reading her next thought.
"I think so," Nick said, speaking at last. "I'd agree with that. I mean, it's one thing to sit here and say you'll tell her, but to go into a room, and re-live that entire experience with her, pulling out every single detail, every painful memory, in excruciating detail … that's a lot to ask of yourself."
"Believe me, I know," Sofia answered, looking like he was stating the obvious.
"Would it help to have some company?" Sara asked.
"How do you mean?" Grissom asked, guarded.
His blue eyes narrowed, searching hers, worried.
"I'm happy to come in with you," Sara said, ignoring him and looking to Sofia. "If it would help. Help to … get through the tough parts."
"You'd do that?" Sofia asked, hopeful.
"Absolutely," Sara replied. "If it helps you get through this."
Sofia looked deeply touched, but the moment did not last long as the others soon laid into her.
"That's a bad idea," Grissom said, critical.
"A terrible idea," Catherine echoed, looking worried.
"You know what's going to come up, right?" Nick asked, giving her a look doused in hints. "I mean, what happened in Vegas, the baby … and everything …"
He trailed off, not wanting to spell it out with actual words.
"I realise that," Sara said. She gulped, but drew up strength from depths she had not even previously known she had. Then she looked him straight in the eye. "But again, our reality is that if we do not find a way of dealing with this, then something far worse than anything we experienced is waiting for us. We have to survive this. To not underestimate the psychological effects. And that means we have to put every support system in place that we can think of, including Dianne."
"But what happened," Grissom began, "the story ..."
"I can take it," Sara said.
She looked him straight in the eye, and Grissom stared at her a moment, before she saw him let out a small breath, relenting. He did not look pleased, but he would not stand in her way.
After he relented, she knew the others would not fight her.
"I'm strong enough," she promised. Then she looked to Sofia, passing her a look of pure love and friendship. "I'm not going to let this beat us. I'll be there to the end, every step of the way. Like I said last week. No matter what it takes."
She looked into her eyes, and saw Sofia gaze back, eyes softening. She knew the blonde was remembering what had happened the week before, and their discussion on the kitchen floor. It already felt to Sara like a lifetime ago, so much had happened since, and it was hard to believe it had only been days. She saw Sofia looked speechless for a moment before she nodded.
"Thank you," she said. Then she added earnestly, "You're a good friend."
"You're welcome," Sara said.
There was an awkward silence.
"I don't know where you get your strength, Sara," Warrick said, with rare respect.
"Experience," she replied, smiling.
She was referring to her childhood, and her previous troubles with psychological illness, but not keen to discuss it, she looked to Grissom instead, who was still looking at her oddly.
"What?" she asked, concerned.
He gulped, seeming to juggle something unpleasant in his mind, and then looked to Sofia, with a heartfelt look, one that possibly cost him more strength than he would ever describe.
"I'd like to come too," he said. "If that's all right."
"You're welcome," Sofia said, without even needing to consider it.
"Are you sure?" Catherine asked.
She passed him the same staunchly protective look she had given Sara, evidently concerned for them both. She held his eyes for a long moment, and in that moment Sara realised, for the first time, that the memories that bothered her bothered him equally badly, if not worse – but that it had not been Sara that he had leaned on, or spoken to about those issues. She had the sudden impression that there had been hidden discussions with Catherine, and perhaps Warrick, judging from the looks that quickly passed between the three of them.
"I'm sure," he said. He swallowed again. "Like Sara said, I'm here 'til the end."
Catherine nodded, understanding. But apparently she still couldn't bear to join them, and feeling the pressure of the moment, quickly looked down, and then away.
"But I do have one condition," Grissom went on, looking strong again.
"What's that?" Sara asked.
"Well if this is about mental health, and paving the way forward, then I think there's one more person who needs to hear it."
And Sara turned, following Grissom's gaze to the two people who were still looking at the view over Nevada, to Dianne and Brass. Despite a week having passed Brass was still very present, beyond what she would have expected, and she was beginning to understand a few things – one was that Dianne and Brass had become very close, and were staunch friends, and the other, that their disappearance had been extremely painful, more painful than any of them had selfishly realised.
There were other people too who had been affected, who needed a recovery.
"Okay," Sofia said, answering for them. "But we tell it once, and that's it."
"Agreed," Grissom said.
XXX
It all happened remarkably fast. They barely got home before Sofia took her mother aside, wanting a word, and though Sara caught none of the words she sensed from Sofia's body language that she had asked her mother for a private conversation – after everyone else had left, or gone to bed. Dianne nodded, and then the wait began. First, Lindsey came home from school, with Lily Flynn in tow, and with them present, nothing more was said until hours later, when at last, around eight o'clock, Lily Flynn hugged Catherine goodbye for the night and took her granddaughter home. Catherine nodded, but her blue eyes drifted to the group immediately after they left, knowing what was to come.
"Are you ready?" Sofia asked Sara, sidling up to her.
"As I'll ever be," Sara agreed.
Sofia nodded, and across the room she eyed her mother, who still apparently had no idea what was going on, and looked confused.
"Ready?" Brass repeated, standing beside Dianne and looking at sea. "Ready for what?"
"The truth," Grissom replied.
There was a moment of silence. Both Brass and Dianne stiffened, suddenly alert.
"We'd like a word," Sofia said, gesturing to the formal lounge – the one with the closable door.
"A few words," Sara corrected, knowing it could take a while.
"All right," Dianne said.
Her words were laced with caution, and wary, she moved with Brass to the neat formal lounge, the one with cosy sofas and a coffee table in between.
Sara steered Sofia to sit down beside her mother, and then took her other side, knowing she would have to take the brunt of the story. She saw Grissom take an armchair, along with Brass, but was surprised when, through the open doorway, she saw Catherine momentarily close her eyes, as if steeling herself – before reluctantly following them in.
"Cath?" Warrick queried.
He had been ready to walk away with Nick, to give them privacy, but stopped.
"I'll join them," she said.
"You don't have to," Grissom said. "We have enough."
"No, I want to," she said, softly. Like a robot she walked in, daunted but determined, and soon sat on the coffee table, facing them all.
Knowing what it cost her, Sara stretched out a hand, and Catherine took it, accepting the gesture. Sara knew better than to tell Catherine not to join them, and Catherine simply steeled herself, and looked straight into Sara's eyes.
"I don't walk away from my friends," she said, strongly. "We'll get through this together."
"'Til the end," Sara said.
"All the way," Catherine repeated.
It was a touching moment, until Sara realised that Warrick and Nick were still in the doorway, unsure if they should turn away or not. She saw them hesitate, and quickly took pity on them.
"You don't have to stay," she urged.
"It could be a hard discussion," Grissom agreed.
"No, I know that," Nick agreed.
But they did not move, and Sara saw both of them eye Catherine, and feel the sudden weight of peer pressure, of not wanting to be the only ones sitting it out, of not wanting the guilt.
"You don't have to do this," Sofia said.
"I'm happy to stay," Nick said, at last. "But I'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay. I'll stay … as a moral support."
"Me too," Warrick agreed. "But I don't want to go into details."
"There's going to be details," Sara warned.
There was no point telling it in a half-heartened manner. It was all or nothing, sink or swim.
"As long as I'm not the one telling them," he said. "I don't think I'm ready to go down that road."
"Fair enough," Catherine replied.
The two men found seats, and then an awkward silence settled, none of them knowing how to begin.
"What we're going to tell you," Grissom began, "is the truth. Warts and all. But I have to warn you, you may not believe it. It's … unusual. Maybe even paranormal."
"I expected as much," Brass said.
His face was inscrutable.
"Keep going," Dianne urged.
"It comes with conditions," Catherine said, sitting up straight, and her voice suddenly stern. "That what's said here, stays in this room. Forever. That as long as we live, no one else hears it. My mother doesn't hear it, Lindsey never hears it, Grissom and Nick's families don't hear it. That's for their own good. It doesn't go beyond these walls."
Dianne and Brass passed a look between them, cautious, their faces wary but not put off.
"All right," Dianne said, after a moment. "You have my word."
"Mine too," Brass echoed. "Now what the hell happened?"
Sara started talking. "We can only say what we experienced, and can't provide an explanation for it, but after we disappeared, when we woke up …"
Sara launched into the story. The first part was easy. She told the details, as they had happened, resolutely ploughing ahead and not daring to look at their faces. She told of their awakening on the hillside, vomiting and ill, their trip to the house, their failed attempt to hike out. She then told of finding Sofia on the slope outside, how deathly pale and ill she had been, and Sofia, hearing their account for the first time herself, watched Sara as she uttered every word. Out of the corner of her eye, still not daring to look at her, lest she should lose her nerve, Sara sensed Dianne gently take Sofia's hand in hers, but she did not stop the story, she did not ask questions.
Sara supposed that Dianne and Brass had let her talk on due to an awareness that stopping her was a bad idea, and that years of detective experience had taught them not to interrupt the account or break the flow. So Sara talked on, and soon described her attempt to get help, walking out with Nick and Warrick, and what they had found in town. She saw Brass' eyes furrow heavily as she described what they saw there, haltingly and awkwardly, and she gave every detail she could. It was sometime around then that Catherine moved, and sat instead on Sara's arm rest. Sara felt Catherine's feminine hand land on her back, and knew it was there not because she was upset, but that it was a gesture of unwavering solidarity for how hard to it was to tell the story – and not be thought crazy.
When she got to the part of getting back to the house, Grissom took over. He described Sofia's state, how desperately ill she had been, seeming keen that Dianne understood the trauma her daughter had been through, and what the reality had in fact looked like. Dianne held Sofia's hand tight, Sofia's own eyes avoiding others in the room, but they let Grissom talk on, quiet and patient. After Grissom had described the brutality of Sofia's condition, Sara took over again, relating how Sofia had at last woken up, in a great deal of pain but coherent, and then their eventual decision to head to Vegas, to get help.
Sara paused there, hesitating for the first time. What lay ahead was the part she was unsure about, but committed now, she took a deep breath, and ploughed on.
"You want me to take this bit?" Catherine offered, but Sara waved her down.
"No, I got it," she said.
It had been her idea to tell the story at all, more or less to help Sofia, but now she felt the pressure to live up to her statement that she could handle it, and not falter.
She continued on.
"We rode bikes to Vegas," she said. "Along the highway. It was deserted, dust everywhere, no one in sight. It was creepy."
"Eerie," Sofia agreed, reminiscing with an understanding expression. "Far too silent."
"I don't think I'll ever shake the memory," Catherine added. "Or the memory of how sore my legs were."
"It was a long way," Grissom agreed.
She spoke of how they had found the car, then rode over the last hill to reveal the mass graveyard outside the city. Determined not to stop, she plunged into an honest account of what they had found there, including her own headstone, but then couldn't help pausing, lifting her eyes to check in on Dianne and Brass, and saw both of them staring back at her, barely able to believe what they were hearing. Skepticism was all over their faces, but also patience.
"It's the truth," Sofia said, supporting Sara's account.
Dianne nodded, but seemed to swallow it down with great difficulty. Nevertheless, she was patient.
"Go on," she said.
"What happened then?" Brass asked.
Sara had no inkling as to whether Brass believed them or not, but could not blame him for reserving judgement. It was a ridiculous tale to hear.
"We rode into town," Sara went on. "It looked deserted. There were lots of bodies, abandoned cars, smashed houses. No one in sight."
"And silent," Grissom added. "I'll never forget the silence."
"Yeah," Sara agreed. She reminisced a moment before continuing. "Anyway, we decided to split into pairs, so we could cover more ground. We agreed to meet in an hour. I went with Gil, we went into some houses, trying to find any clues … and …"
She broke off, aware she couldn't tell the story of what had happened to the others.
Sofia picked it up.
"I went to some retail stores with Nick," she said. "It went well, at first. Everything was trashed and abandoned. We search different rooms, but when I came back to find him I found him with some thug holding him at gunpoint. I shot the guy, and he was killed. Two more then entered, the gunshot had alerted them to our presence, and I shot them both. I then grabbed Nick and we ran."
Brass took in a breath, evidently sympathising and relating, even if he did not yet believe it. Dianne's face was impassive.
"We bolted, we got out of there, and ran to find Warrick and Catherine. We found them in an abandoned warehouse in the next street, they were under attack already, being fired at by someone who must have been a part of the same gang. I shot the guy, he fell, we helped Warrick and Catherine up and ran."
"And you?" Brass asked, looking to Sara. "Were you attacked as well?"
"Um …"
Sara broke off, as she heard her voice falter. Unwanted, the memories came storming in. The memory of the cold gun to her head. Of being pinned to the floor.
She drew in a breath, trying to find courage. She had already related part of the story to Dianne several days before – just the essentials – but as she hesitated, she heard Dianne sigh, sympathising, sensing what was coming.
"You want us to tell this part?" Catherine asked.
"Yeah," Sara confessed.
She felt no shame in letting them take it. It was by far easier.
"Gil and Sara searched some houses," Catherine said. "But by the time we got there, it was already too late. We ran the whole way and it wasn't enough. We found Sara on the floor, covered in blood. Her pants were down, her blouse torn open. He'd tried to assault her."
"Tried?" Brass asked, honing in on the phrase.
"Gil fought him off," Catherine explained, matter-of-fact. "Shot the guy in the head."
She stopped there, and Sara was grateful. Catherine had hurtled into it at a pace that was overwhelming. She felt Catherine's arm around her shoulders, Sofia clutching and rubbing her knee, but her attention was on Grissom. He sat in the armchair opposite, looking older and more defeated than Sara had ever known him. He had taken his glasses off, and was looking down at some spot on the floor, lost in excruciating memory.
In a flash, Sara realised it was too much for him.
"Gil –" she started.
"You want a break?" Catherine asked.
"Yeah," he said, without looking at Sara.
In a round of body language that could have won an Olympic medal, Catherine nodded at Warrick, who got up, and urged Grissom to come with him. Grissom seemed relieved to go, and the two men left for a brief break and a private chat in the kitchen. As Sara watched, gutted, she saw Nick get up and follow.
"We'll handle it," he promised, quietly. "It's okay."
Sara heard Catherine sigh beside her, as if she had anticipated how hard that would be, and Sara had to work hard to keep her feet planted, and not to follow. She knew she had to trust the guys, to not make it worse by barging in, but it took all of her self-control. She realised that there were things probably better shared with the others, things he could never tell to Sara – how it had felt, how scared he had been, how he could not let the memory go.
Perhaps the guys would understand that better than she ever could.
"You should have told us immediately at the hospital," Brass said, regretfully.
"Leave it," Sofia replied.
Her voice was firm, almost challenging.
Sara lifted her head and caught the briefest glimpse into his eyes, and saw she was not actually being told off, but rather that Brass was looking at her with a gentle paternal expression, like a man who had had his worst nightmares haunt his dreams for nine months, and now looked like he was facing one of them come true.
She shook her head.
"It is what it is," she said.
Catherine's hand was still roving around her shoulders, soothing, but in the oppressive, unmanageable silence that followed, Sara slid one hand over her face, unable to deal with it.
"Give us a minute," Sofia whispered.
Sofia caught it just in time, and Sara heard Brass get up.
"I'll go check on Gil," he said.
He left, and Sara heard Dianne say she would be back. Dianne closed the door part-way behind her.
"You okay?" Catherine asked.
Sara sighed, a deep one. The memories were horrible, but she had promised the others she could take it. She had to see that through, somehow.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered.
She rubbed her bare arms – she still wore her shorts and the tank top she had used on the hike – but the temperature in the room had dropped as night fell. It was chilly now.
"Are you cold?" Catherine asked.
"The temperature's dropped in here," Sara said.
"You're trembling," Sofia noticed.
Instantly there seemed to be a wordless discussion behind her, signals sent over the top of her back, as without a word Catherine crossed to the opposite sofa, and seized a fluffy green throw blanket that they had used a few days before to cover Lindsey, when she had stayed over. She brought it back, and shook it open before placing it around Sara's shoulders, tucking it in front of her.
"Stay warm," she said.
"Thanks," Sara replied.
She felt pressured to say something, to fill the silence, but then realised as her friends continued to comfort her – Catherine rubbing her back and Sofia holding her hand – that they had now been friends so long that no words were needed. So instead she relaxed, wrenching her mind off the memories that had been provoked to the surface, and listened instead to what was going on in the next room, and the murmur of distant voices in the kitchen.
"You think he's okay?" Sara asked.
"I don't know," Catherine confessed, honestly. "I know he's talked to Warrick about it – briefly – but I don't think it was a long conversation. You know what Grissom's like."
"He keeps it all bottled up," Sara said.
"Probably best to let us handle it," Sofia advised. "It might be easier for him to talk to us … at least about that particular issue. He'll be okay."
"Yeah. I guess you're right."
As she sat there, letting them comfort her, Sara fully appreciated for the first time the sheer, uncomfortable burden that Grissom had taken on in leading the team through their ordeal. He had rarely wavered, but trudged on, day after day, pulling all of them through. It was only now that they were back, that the scars were beginning to show.
She sighed, again.
"I'll check on him," Catherine said.
She left Sara with Sofia, and crossed to the door. She peeked out, but a moment later had returned, with Grissom in tow.
Astonishingly, he looked a bit better, although he still looked weary. He moved to the coffee table, and sat on it facing Sara, his knees brushing her bare ones. He reached out and took her hand, and looked, weary but determined, into her eyes.
"I'm okay," he assured.
Sara nodded. "Good."
She had no idea what to say, still surrounded by the others, the group having now reappeared in the doorway, but moved her hand to hold is, and squeezed it, a gesture of unity.
"We'll get through this," she said.
He nodded, in quiet contemplation, but then his expression changed – his eyes narrowed, and he fingered the blanket, wrapped around her.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm good," Sara said.
"She was shaking," Sofia supplied, when he looked to her for an explanation.
Grissom's mouth closed again, in sympathy and in disappointment, but in a flash he had the problem in hand – he threw a look to the guys in the doorway, and in an instant a jacket was produced – one with LVPD writing on it. Dianne passed it to him, and before Sara could fully protest, he had removed the blanket from her shoulders, and together with Sofia, slipped her arms into the jacket.
"Put it on," he said.
"I'm really okay," she protested.
"Your hands are like ice."
"Her body temperature's low," Catherine said.
She had returned to the armrest and reached in without an invite to whip up the zip, throwing it all the way to Sara's neck. Once done, Grissom took the blanket and rearranged it, folding it over her legs.
"Keep your legs covered," he said.
"I thought you liked my legs?" Sara joked.
It was hard not to flirt – not when the opportunity so effortlessly presented itself. He paused, looking into her eye for a moment, and she saw playfulness there, one eye twinkling.
"I also like to concentrate," he said. "And your legs are a distraction."
"I'll bear that in mind."
She grinned at him, and though she heard Warrick say something – something about querying if they needed a room – she ignored them all. Instead, she tightened her grip on his fingers, and leaned forward, seizing a kiss.
She didn't care that everyone in the room was watching, but pressed her lips firm to his, sliding them over for a moment before at last letting go.
She sat back, and he nodded.
"We'll move forward," he promised.
"Forward," Sara agreed.
Writing this fic is pure indulgence, mainly for myself, to finish off something I always wanted to finish. But I do really hope that maybe someone likes this too. If you did enjoy, please let me know - it will make my day.
More to come...
