Chapter Seven
The sun had sought cover behind clouds that drifted determinedly across the sky. It was a day that promised rain, but did not deliver, as if to say 'I could if I wanted, but I choose not to'.
I could if I wanted.
Grissom couldn't help but lift his eyes from the horizon to meet Sara's lovely eyes, so intent upon his face.
I could if I wanted.
Sometimes he wanted to more than anything. Just to hold her, like the sun she was, basking in her warmth. Perhaps dare a caress, like the gentle touch of a cloud drifting by. But if he held her, he wouldn't let go. If he let her in, he could not close her out again. That choice could not be made easily. He thought about it sometimes when he looked at her like this, every now and then giving her the lifelines that kept a 'we' afloat.
Little concessions, little lifelines. All bringing her closer, bit by bit, making the choice harder. For it wasn't just about him and her.
One day, he'd have to tell her about the hearing.
"If you two are done with your gazing mating ritual, perhaps you might fill me in?"
Catherine's voice sounded amused, and he turned to see her lean against the hood of the Tahoe, arms crossed, but a hint of a smile on her face. He hadn't even heard her come.
"Catherine," he greeted her with.
"Don't 'Catherine' me. You have a lead and you didn't call me."
"That's right," he answered calmly, turning to Sara again.
"Gil!"
"You shouldn't be here, Catherine," he warned.
"I am here. Now, are you going to tell me?"
He sighed, feeling a slight bemused look from Sara burn against his skin.
"We are looking for sawdust," he finally said. "Brass has…"
"Brass has indeed," the man himself said, walking out and looking pleased with himself. "There are three houses in the area you indicated that are undergoing renovations. One of them is in a neighbourhood that would certainly notice gangs about. The two others are more likely. Lancan street and Jenkins road. I got warrants."
"Are we heading out?" Nick asked, exiting his car. "I got your page, Grissom."
"Yes. You're with Brass at Lancan street, Sara and I will look at the other site. Look for sawdust and blue paint and get samples."
Catherine shot him an infuriated look, just as Sara muttered "I'll be in the car." Brass and Nick had already vanished, sensing storm clouds.
"I'm a part of this investigation," Catherine said, strangely calm.
"You are too emotional."
"We are all emotional on this one, Grissom. We all want to know why."
"No," he said simply.
"Damnit, Grissom, don't tell me why doesn't matter!" Her voice rose, and she seemed ready to stab him with her gaze.
"We know why, Catherine," he replied calmly. "You want to know the reason for the why and the reason for the reason. It won't give you any peace of mind. It just is."
She shook her head. "Wake up, Gil. Life is more than just being."
He didn't flinch, didn't answer, and merely stared at her. Her face softened slightly for a moment, as if she had realised she had given him a slap across the face.
"Go with Nick and Brass," he finally told her, and she accepted it with a nod. Anger still glimmered in her eyes, and he had a feeling the subject was not laid to rest.
Sara looked at him as he entered the car, tenderly and darkly. She did look a bit tired and haggard, he suddenly noticed, and felt a bang of guilt. She ought to get some rest and food, yet he wanted her here.
"45 Jenkins road," she said, holding out a map. "It was to become an apartment complex, but got closed down after the company that was renovating went bankrupt. Seems the owner had his hand firmly in the cookiejar."
"And only left the cookies with raisins," he replied, starting the car.
"You don't like raisins?"
He shook his head; she smiled.
"Evidence of childhood trauma involving a near-death situation?" she guessed. When he didn't reply, she seemed to take it as confirmation as the smile widened. "The puzzle of Gil Grissom – another piece added."
He still said nothing, and she returned her attention to the map.
"It's fairly close to the scene of the crime," she said soberly, pain washing over her face for just a moment. "Walking distance."
He could almost seem them, the shadows in the dark, boots and blood on the road. A mob, killing without thinking. He had seen it before, he would see it again.
"Must be it," Sara said tentatively as the car swung into Jenkins road and a half-finished driveway. The apartment complex looked more like the shell of a building than an actual building – torn plastic instead of windows, walls unpainted and even missing in some places.
It was quiet as they walked out, the homes around fairly quiet so early in the day. Cars sailed by, but even they seemed lazy. A rather unremarkable neighbourhood, at least on the surface. But beneath the skin, tattoos of swastikas could hide.
"Sawdust," he remarked as they walked into the shell, Sara's camera already flashing. He bent down to the floor, carefully setting his brief case down. For a few minutes they worked in silence, Grissom taking samples, Sara photographing. Boot prints were found, but no blue paint.
"Maybe Nick and Catherine had better luck," Sara suggested, looking slightly down.
"The blue paint may not have come from the same place as the sawdust," he reminded her, looking around. "When it rains, the ground here would be muddy."
As if the sky heard him, he felt something cold land on his hand. A drop of water, then another. The promised rain was coming.
They ran to the car, huddling together almost instinctively as the sky bombarded them with water. The ground became slippery fast, causing Sara to nearly fall against him. He felt a slight jolt of warmth as he steadied her, before finally getting into the sanctuary of the car.
"I want to get a mud sample after it clears," he muttered, brushing raindrops off his face. The rain seemed to almost thunder, as if once released it was destined to drown everything.
"If you want to," she answered, rain gleaming in her hair.
"I want to," he said softly. She looked strangely at him, face rain streaked and tired. "You need rest."
"So do you," she snapped back, sounding annoyed. Perhaps she felt him overbearing, but he didn't care. She was Sara, she deserved not to have to carry the ills of the world.
"Rest in me."
"What?" She stared at him, eyes wide. He didn't repeat the remark, just reached out and let his skin touch hers.
I could if I wanted.
I want.
It rained on.
