Part 3/?
Sara finally found what she had been looking for. The
old church stood on its own, out in the middle of a dusty
paddock. The white-washed weatherboard building
was freshly painted; obviously someone still attended to
its upkeep. Arched stain-glassed windows faced the dirt
road and dark, solid oak arched doors protected the
inner reliquary.
Pulling the SUV to a stop, Sara turned off the engine,
her hand remaining on the keys as she surveyed the
scene in front of her. Already, she could feel the rapid
beating of her heart begin to settle down and the painful,
thick lump constricting her throat begin to release. This
scene had some familiarity, provided some connection to
the sanctuary she had always sought in San Francisco;
the peacefulness and solitude that enabled her to take
time to gain perspective.
Hopping out into the rain, she walked past the church,
heading out beyond the building into the field behind it.
Old fashioned wrought iron fencing surrounded a large
area, segregating it from the old church out front yet
joining all that remained within. Moving slowly through
the gate, the disused hinges grating loudly in protest,
Sara walked reverently between the heavy, dark grey
headstones. She took time to read each obituary to a
life that was lost to the living; a testimony to love,
disease, war and life itself. Families torn apart and
reunited once again in death. Losing herself in the
images of the past, she allowed time to evaporate.
While the church was well kept, the graveyard was the
opposite. Each grave was overgrown with weeds.
Some of the headstones hard to read, the harsh, wild
weather of time taking a toll on the chiselled stone. Sara
found herself automatically pulling the tough weeds from
around each grave as she read the inscription, the rain
helping the ground release its grip on the roots. The
tedious work occupied her hands while her mind
extrapolated life stories from the small snippets of
information gleaned from the headstone. Time and the
manual labour dispelled the anxiety that had filled her,
giving her a chance to do some internal brick-laying
once again.
Sara arrived at the CSI building with only ten minutes to
spare before her shift. Her clothes were still drenched
and muddy. A miscalculation in the time it would take to
get back from the cemetery not allowing for her to go
home, have a shower and change. She was grateful that
she always kept a spare set of clothing in her locker for
those days when bodies suddenly expelled unexpected
foreign material that impregnated the clothes.
Tossing her handbag over her shoulder, Sara went
directly to the locker room to get her change of clothing,
avoiding eye contact with anyone who happened to pass
her along the way. Only Warrick was in the room,
changing his shirt. He swivelled his head in her direction
as she entered the room, noting her bedraggled
appearance.
"What did you do, walk to work?"
Sara had hoped that no one would be in the locker
room, but she had been prepared for it. She wasn't
about to tell anyone how she had spent the day.
"Flat tyre. No guy would stop to help," Sara offered
blandly in explanation as she passed by Warrick to get
to her own locker. She was grateful that the rain had
continued to fall or otherwise her lie would not have
washed with him.
"Do you blame him if you were wearing that expression
on your face."
"Thanks, Warrick. When you're wet and muddy, let's
see what expression you wear on your face."
"Actually, I've experienced the wet part and it's rather
unpleasant. Cheer up, the day can only get better,"
Warrick remarked, thinking back to his recent
experience with the pool at Portia Richmond's mansion.
He gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder for support.
As he was about to leave the room, he swung around to
face Sara. "By the way, Grissom was looking for you.
Said he'd paged you."
Sara frowned. Pulling her pager from her hip, she
cursed herself inwardly, turning the pager on as she did
so. She had turned it off before heading into the Haven
View Centre and had forgotten to turn it back on when
she had left.
"Unusual for you to miss an opportunity to work,
particularly with Grissom," Warrick commented, curious
as to why Sara had not answered her page.
He got no answer. Sara only slammed the door to her
locker, avoided Warrick's inquisitive gaze as she pushed
past him and went to get changed. As she left the room,
Sara almost collided with Nick. He moved sideways,
out of her way, the moment he witnessed the determined
look on her face. Nick watched as she strode away,
purpose in her stride, her head bowed down.
"What's up with Sara? Why is she soaked?"
"Two folded anger - annoyance; whatever you want to
call it.. She had to change the tyre on her SUV in the
rain and also missed a page from Grissom. I'd imagine
she's wondering what wonderful case she missed."
However, Warrick wasn't so sure it was that simple.
From what little he had gleaned about Sara since she
had arrived in Las Vegas, he knew she was ambitious
and intelligent. She expected a high standard from
those around her, but expected even more so from
herself. Her interests outside of CSI were nil and she
has a propensity to do overtime at the drop of a hat.
For Sara to have turned off her pager there had to be
something going on. As to what, he had no idea.
Warrick wasn't even sure he wanted to find out,
knowing how protective Sara was of her personal life.
But concern for his colleague had him intrigued enough
to pursue it further.
"That would drive her crazy. Changed her tyre in the
rain, huh? What I wouldn't pay to have seen that."
"Man, I don't think you'd want to be close when she
was changing a tyre. You'd never know what direction
she'd throw the tyre iron in her current mood."
"True, so true," Nick responded. "Hey, I hope I won't
be having Miss Sunshine tonight. If I do, I may just
need to take up Greg's offer of a valium or two."
Warrick laughed as they made their way down to the
break room cum briefing room. Catherine and Grissom
were already there, seated at the able. They were in
deep discussion which stopped as soon as they entered
the room.
"Have you seen Sara?" Grissom asked as the two men
walked into the room, gripping his cup of coffee tightly.
"Yeah, Grissom." Warrick confirmed, sitting down on
the couch. "She's getting changed. She got a flat tyre
on the way here and ended up having to change it in the
rain."
Catherine raised her eyebrows. She looked across at
Grissom and sent him a silent message to tread carefully
and not make any assumptions.
"Really?"
"Okay, here are the assignments. Catherine, a 428.
Victim is at University Medical Centre."
Catherine sighed as she took the piece of paper. These
type of cases were not how she liked to start the day.
"Nick - 419. Body was found at Cave Rock."
"On my own? Yes!" Nick responded gleefully.
"No," contradicted Grissom as he handed over the
assignment. " Sara will be working with you when she
gets here."
"Damn," Nick muttered under his breath.
"What?" Grissom looked up from the last piece of paper
in his hand, raising his eyebrows to query Nick's
obvious displeasure.
"Nothing, Just you haven't had the pleasure of Sara's
wonderful mood. It's going to be a blast working with
her." Nick walked out of the room in search of his
assigned partner, grumbling under his breath about how
a certain snarky CSI should get a bit more sleep.
Grissom and Catherine exchanged glances. Taking on
the role of head of the graveyard shift had not been
Grissom's personal choice and with the current state of
affairs, he knew why he had never aspired to the
position.
"Warrick, you're with me. Murder-suicide. Sunrise
Manor."
Catherine gave Grissom a pointed look, obviously
wanting to say something to him but refraining from
doing so in front of her colleagues.
"Go ahead, Warrick. I'll be with you in a moment."
Grissom handed Warrick the assignment sheet, before
leaning back against the bank of cupboards.
"You're avoiding her already."
"Cath, a murder-suicide is not what she needs to be
working on right now, particularly not this one." Grissom
knew a few of the finer details of the case. It wasn't
simply two people involved in the murder-suicide but an
entire family. Would Sara cope with it after the pressure
she had placed herself under on the Pamela Adler case?
Personally, he didn't want to find out.
"I disagree. It will give you an opening. And if she
doesn't cope, you'll be there. It'll be safer than sending
her out with Nick."
"Or do you mean safer for Nick."
"Look Gil, you've got a situation and you've got to do
something about it. Now, not next week. It might be
too late by then."
End Part 3/?
Sara finally found what she had been looking for. The
old church stood on its own, out in the middle of a dusty
paddock. The white-washed weatherboard building
was freshly painted; obviously someone still attended to
its upkeep. Arched stain-glassed windows faced the dirt
road and dark, solid oak arched doors protected the
inner reliquary.
Pulling the SUV to a stop, Sara turned off the engine,
her hand remaining on the keys as she surveyed the
scene in front of her. Already, she could feel the rapid
beating of her heart begin to settle down and the painful,
thick lump constricting her throat begin to release. This
scene had some familiarity, provided some connection to
the sanctuary she had always sought in San Francisco;
the peacefulness and solitude that enabled her to take
time to gain perspective.
Hopping out into the rain, she walked past the church,
heading out beyond the building into the field behind it.
Old fashioned wrought iron fencing surrounded a large
area, segregating it from the old church out front yet
joining all that remained within. Moving slowly through
the gate, the disused hinges grating loudly in protest,
Sara walked reverently between the heavy, dark grey
headstones. She took time to read each obituary to a
life that was lost to the living; a testimony to love,
disease, war and life itself. Families torn apart and
reunited once again in death. Losing herself in the
images of the past, she allowed time to evaporate.
While the church was well kept, the graveyard was the
opposite. Each grave was overgrown with weeds.
Some of the headstones hard to read, the harsh, wild
weather of time taking a toll on the chiselled stone. Sara
found herself automatically pulling the tough weeds from
around each grave as she read the inscription, the rain
helping the ground release its grip on the roots. The
tedious work occupied her hands while her mind
extrapolated life stories from the small snippets of
information gleaned from the headstone. Time and the
manual labour dispelled the anxiety that had filled her,
giving her a chance to do some internal brick-laying
once again.
Sara arrived at the CSI building with only ten minutes to
spare before her shift. Her clothes were still drenched
and muddy. A miscalculation in the time it would take to
get back from the cemetery not allowing for her to go
home, have a shower and change. She was grateful that
she always kept a spare set of clothing in her locker for
those days when bodies suddenly expelled unexpected
foreign material that impregnated the clothes.
Tossing her handbag over her shoulder, Sara went
directly to the locker room to get her change of clothing,
avoiding eye contact with anyone who happened to pass
her along the way. Only Warrick was in the room,
changing his shirt. He swivelled his head in her direction
as she entered the room, noting her bedraggled
appearance.
"What did you do, walk to work?"
Sara had hoped that no one would be in the locker
room, but she had been prepared for it. She wasn't
about to tell anyone how she had spent the day.
"Flat tyre. No guy would stop to help," Sara offered
blandly in explanation as she passed by Warrick to get
to her own locker. She was grateful that the rain had
continued to fall or otherwise her lie would not have
washed with him.
"Do you blame him if you were wearing that expression
on your face."
"Thanks, Warrick. When you're wet and muddy, let's
see what expression you wear on your face."
"Actually, I've experienced the wet part and it's rather
unpleasant. Cheer up, the day can only get better,"
Warrick remarked, thinking back to his recent
experience with the pool at Portia Richmond's mansion.
He gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder for support.
As he was about to leave the room, he swung around to
face Sara. "By the way, Grissom was looking for you.
Said he'd paged you."
Sara frowned. Pulling her pager from her hip, she
cursed herself inwardly, turning the pager on as she did
so. She had turned it off before heading into the Haven
View Centre and had forgotten to turn it back on when
she had left.
"Unusual for you to miss an opportunity to work,
particularly with Grissom," Warrick commented, curious
as to why Sara had not answered her page.
He got no answer. Sara only slammed the door to her
locker, avoided Warrick's inquisitive gaze as she pushed
past him and went to get changed. As she left the room,
Sara almost collided with Nick. He moved sideways,
out of her way, the moment he witnessed the determined
look on her face. Nick watched as she strode away,
purpose in her stride, her head bowed down.
"What's up with Sara? Why is she soaked?"
"Two folded anger - annoyance; whatever you want to
call it.. She had to change the tyre on her SUV in the
rain and also missed a page from Grissom. I'd imagine
she's wondering what wonderful case she missed."
However, Warrick wasn't so sure it was that simple.
From what little he had gleaned about Sara since she
had arrived in Las Vegas, he knew she was ambitious
and intelligent. She expected a high standard from
those around her, but expected even more so from
herself. Her interests outside of CSI were nil and she
has a propensity to do overtime at the drop of a hat.
For Sara to have turned off her pager there had to be
something going on. As to what, he had no idea.
Warrick wasn't even sure he wanted to find out,
knowing how protective Sara was of her personal life.
But concern for his colleague had him intrigued enough
to pursue it further.
"That would drive her crazy. Changed her tyre in the
rain, huh? What I wouldn't pay to have seen that."
"Man, I don't think you'd want to be close when she
was changing a tyre. You'd never know what direction
she'd throw the tyre iron in her current mood."
"True, so true," Nick responded. "Hey, I hope I won't
be having Miss Sunshine tonight. If I do, I may just
need to take up Greg's offer of a valium or two."
Warrick laughed as they made their way down to the
break room cum briefing room. Catherine and Grissom
were already there, seated at the able. They were in
deep discussion which stopped as soon as they entered
the room.
"Have you seen Sara?" Grissom asked as the two men
walked into the room, gripping his cup of coffee tightly.
"Yeah, Grissom." Warrick confirmed, sitting down on
the couch. "She's getting changed. She got a flat tyre
on the way here and ended up having to change it in the
rain."
Catherine raised her eyebrows. She looked across at
Grissom and sent him a silent message to tread carefully
and not make any assumptions.
"Really?"
"Okay, here are the assignments. Catherine, a 428.
Victim is at University Medical Centre."
Catherine sighed as she took the piece of paper. These
type of cases were not how she liked to start the day.
"Nick - 419. Body was found at Cave Rock."
"On my own? Yes!" Nick responded gleefully.
"No," contradicted Grissom as he handed over the
assignment. " Sara will be working with you when she
gets here."
"Damn," Nick muttered under his breath.
"What?" Grissom looked up from the last piece of paper
in his hand, raising his eyebrows to query Nick's
obvious displeasure.
"Nothing, Just you haven't had the pleasure of Sara's
wonderful mood. It's going to be a blast working with
her." Nick walked out of the room in search of his
assigned partner, grumbling under his breath about how
a certain snarky CSI should get a bit more sleep.
Grissom and Catherine exchanged glances. Taking on
the role of head of the graveyard shift had not been
Grissom's personal choice and with the current state of
affairs, he knew why he had never aspired to the
position.
"Warrick, you're with me. Murder-suicide. Sunrise
Manor."
Catherine gave Grissom a pointed look, obviously
wanting to say something to him but refraining from
doing so in front of her colleagues.
"Go ahead, Warrick. I'll be with you in a moment."
Grissom handed Warrick the assignment sheet, before
leaning back against the bank of cupboards.
"You're avoiding her already."
"Cath, a murder-suicide is not what she needs to be
working on right now, particularly not this one." Grissom
knew a few of the finer details of the case. It wasn't
simply two people involved in the murder-suicide but an
entire family. Would Sara cope with it after the pressure
she had placed herself under on the Pamela Adler case?
Personally, he didn't want to find out.
"I disagree. It will give you an opening. And if she
doesn't cope, you'll be there. It'll be safer than sending
her out with Nick."
"Or do you mean safer for Nick."
"Look Gil, you've got a situation and you've got to do
something about it. Now, not next week. It might be
too late by then."
End Part 3/?