Special thanks to those who reviewed last chapter: Jen, Lovely, Pam, pdhtgal, undacoveragent9, cRaZyPiXiE, MissyJane, spikes_storm, Lynn, Diana, krisnina77, PassionatePapist(Great e-mail! No shout outs in this one, but keep your eyes peeled…SOON!), and Kirby Doggett. Thanks so much for the encouragement and willingness to read! You don't understand just how anxious I become to read the reviews and how ecstatic the feeling when I actually get them! Each one is precious!
Dealing: Chapter Fourteen
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"I think we'll get lucky on this one. The evidence is just so overwhelming…I mean, if we can cross-check the prints collected in the drug bust at Portland's last month, there's a ten to one odds that we'll nab Gonzalez and this case'll be closed tomorrow, you know?" Catherine turned sideways at Nick as she drove along the wet roads heading back to the lab. She was obviously excited at their elaborate findings of the night, and while glancing at Nick, realized he wasn't sharing in her enthusiasm. She actually wondered if he was even listening to her at all. His face stared blankly ahead, and it was blatantly obvious that his mind was not in the car with them. "Yeah, and so after the case closes tomorrow I was thinking about picking up Yoda and heading over to Bermuda to throw back a couple of beers….wanna join us?" Eyeing Nick sideways, she wondered if she'd even get a reaction.
"Mhm" Nick simply half-grunted.
"Okay, what's your deal?" Catherine blurted, snapping her fingers in Nick's face.
"Huh?" Nick seemed to snap to the moment, and he turned his face to Catherine's profile.
"Where exactly are you right now? 'Cause, Lord knows, its nowhere in this vehicle."
Nick let out a long sigh, his eyes dropping sadly. "I'm sorry, Cath. I guess my minds a little preoccupied."
Several seconds passed before she spoke again.
"It's too bad about Sara, huh…" She mentioned, figuring Sara was what Nick was thinking about.
Nick momentarily thought about her statement and then shrugged. "She put it all on herself."
"I guess so." Catherine conceded and then added, "However, we can't always control how we react to the unexpected cards life deals us. Its not like she didn't give it a good try though, right?"
"Yeah." Nick admitted, although still not entirely focused on what Catherine was saying. His mind kept reeling the same image of Sara's expression before she got into her Tahoe to leave the night before. It was almost as if her eyes were asking for Nick's help.
"Girl needs a break. She might not know it yet, but this is a good thing for her." Catherine went on.
Nick didn't respond. He knew just as well how good the break would be for her, although he wasn't thrilled he'd be working solo for the next couple of weeks or so. Still, Sara and him were on the outs, so this break couldn't have come at a better time.
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Sara put a pot on the stove and grabbed a can of chicken noodle soup from her pantry. While her meal was heating up, she peeled off her work clothes and dumped them on the floor next to her washing machine. A few minutes later, she was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt, slurping her soup over the kitchen counter. She was glad to be out of the rain and the suffocating heat of the outside world and into her air conditioned apartment, yet was disturbed to find that her apartment just wasn't the same for some reason. It didn't feel very comfortable, maybe for the simple reason that Sara knew she'd be spending almost every waking moment for the next week or so hibernating indoors.
Sara placed her spoon in her bowl and pushed it aside, not particularly enjoying the heaviness the warm liquid left in her stomach. In the hushed moment while simply sitting there, Sara heard everything from soft rain droplets, a distant train's whistle, and the sound of a gusty wind as it rushed against her outside door.
Quiet. Quiet's good.
"I can do quiet." Sara spoke to herself, although not sounding as convinced as she intended to be.
It had been nearly an hour since Grissom put her on personal leave. In actuality, when he first said those words—your leave starts now—she wasn't sure she believed him. Or maybe it just took longer than normal for the words to register in her head. Either way, she was caught completely off guard. She knew Nick and Grissom had talked about her recent behavior and she knew that Nick even suggested she take some time off to Grissom. But for some reason, she felt invincible. Like nothing would stop her from doing what she intended. That night had given her a reality check and proven a great notion: Life doesn't always follow a preconceived pattern. And now she was angry, and tired, and feeling as if nothing truly mattered. She brought her hands to her temples, trying to rub the pain away. It seemed to throb somewhere from deep inside, which left Sara wondering if it was even the type of pain that aspirin could kill. Probably not.
Outside, the rain started up again.
Somewhere, she knew that Nick was awake, probably already back at the lab, no doubt relentlessly going over the paperwork that came with that night's crime scene. Nick.
She was ambivalent about what her relationship with Nick actually was. Was she really that furious with him? Is he more than a partner or less than one to her?
Whatever the answer was, now Nick was on his own. He'd have to manage their case without her. And she wondered if that at all bothered him. If he'd miss her. In her mind's eye, she knew Nick more than likely did not care. And could she blame him? She hadn't given him any reason to care for her. She went spastic on him the night before and had practically bitten his head off tonight for no good reason except the fact that she felt betrayed. But had he actually even betrayed her? The answer was probably no, and Sara knew that deep down.
Now, everyone at the lab would know something was definitely going on with her. By tomorrow, there would be rumors, people's gossipy whispering claiming that she had finally flown off the handle, that she was forced to leave due to her half-crazed mentality.
Pacing around her apartment, she chided herself. She had to stop thinking that way, worrying about other people, worrying about what they thought, what they would say. It didn't matter. Especially now at a quarter to midnight.
Sara turned on soft music and attempted to fix her thoughts on other things, but the more she tried to even out her mood and convince herself that life was normal, the more everything just became obvious to her. The only thing that would rid her of her spinning thoughts was sleep. But something that Sara did not want to add to her plate was another terrifying nightmare.
Eventually Sara found herself in bed even though she knew she wouldn't sleep. Thoughts invaded her mind despite her best efforts to squelch them. What is my life? She found asking herself that question more than once while lying there.
After an hour or so she sat straight up and tied her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck, her mind suddenly trying to focus, to clear a sudden revelation. Then she slipped out of her sheets, walked to the bathroom, closed the door and took one hard look at herself in the mirror. It was almost as if something just clicked inside her, like a key fitting neatly into a lock, and the person in the reflection seemed to be screaming the newly formed truth back at her. It had come to her without warning, yet hit her with such intensity that there was no possible way to deny it. It seemed so simple, yet it held so much uncertainty and fright within her: My life is nothing without Nick.
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The next two days were a blur. Sara watched a lot of television, ordered numerous take-outs, went running a couple times, even cooked herself dinner one night.
She kept herself preoccupied; generally trying to forget about all that had just happened in her life. Which was, of course, impossible. And given the copious amounts of free time she had, since there was nothing for her to really do, not thinking about it was even more impossible than it would have been under ordinary circumstances. Now Sara knew why she was at the lab so much.
More than a few times her mind wandered to Nick, and she considered calling him to apologize or just to talk. She didn't though; the sudden revelation from two nights ago left her unsure of what to do next. Calling Nick still seemed a little premature—she knew that much.
And truthfully, she wasn't even sure she knew what she wanted with Nick. But she knew what she didn't want, to rot away alone and forever be in a state of wonder of what could have been.
Still, she needed time to regroup, to refocus her energy and to relax. She needed to take advantage of this time forced upon her and actually slow down instead of frantically attempting to fill up every moment with a distraction.
And she fully intended to do just that—relax. She would, just as soon as she did one last thing: Visit the Trevorson children. She needed to see them again. She needed to tell them why she wouldn't be able to continue to stop by on a regular basis. Because being with them only reminded Sara of the case, of her promise to their mother. And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that if she wanted to heal then she needed to let this case be handled solely by Nick for now. When Grissom wanted her back at the lab, then she'd pick up where she left off, but for now, her life needed to be as uncomplicated as possible.
On the day of her planned visit, Sara was up early. She stepped outside to watch the sun rise, something she was capable of doing since her intentional slumber-less night wouldn't allow her to actually sleep in. Coffee mug in hand, she looked to the horizon, watching as the rising sun slowly changed the morning sky from dusky gray to orange. She took a deep lungful of the humid air and found her thoughts drifting to Nick. She mentally pictured him sound asleep, tucked comfortably under his sheets. Despite her sluggishness, she smiled and immediately found herself proud that she was still capable of doing so.
After finishing her coffee on the front steps of her apartment, she headed back inside, then poured herself another cup and plopped down on her sofa.
She would visit the children later, probably around dusk. Their preplanned activities had already claimed every afternoon of every day. So she'd wait patiently; allow the time she had to think about what to say to the children.
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He hadn't planned on things turning out the way they did. In his mind, he thought one day he and Connie would run away together to some secluded land, away from all the madness of the real world. He hadn't planned to kill her. But he did.
Ever since California, on the night he and Connie met, his life had entered an unpredictable world full of drugs and booze. She made him that way; he could thank her for that.
He remembered the first time he saw her. He was on the other side of the bar, wiping down the counter at his place of employment at that time. At just a quarter after eight on a Friday night, she strolled in with three other women, looking eager and sophisticated.
He lived for beautiful women. Yet he knew that she was somehow different. Even with her cat-like stride, her long blonde curls, and the mysterious gleam in her eyes, she was more than just eye candy. She had an aura about her filled with charisma and inner confidence that turned every head at the bar that night as she moved past; Connie was radiant and intoxicating. From the moment he saw her, he knew he wanted her…and he would have her.
They made eye contact; she smiled and sat at the bar stool right before him, allowing only the counter to separate them.
"Double scotch, honey." She purred, smoothly brushing her golden hair off one bare shoulder.
"Coming right up." He had said with a wink.
As a bartender he had mastered the art of picking up subtle conversations with those who sat around him. It wasn't long after the three women arrived that he learned it was a girls' night out, a sort of bachelorette party; the next day Connie was to be married. This of course, intrigued him even more.
Two hours later her friends had already abandoned her, leaving her for some random beefcakes they found at the bar. Which was okay with him; she was the one he had his eye on all night. He knew he had caught her eye as well. He worked his magic, effortlessly granting her the many drink requests of the night. One time he even slid over a glass full of cherries along with her scotch. This pleased her.
As he closed up behind the counter, she watched him with a mischievous eye, still perched atop her stool as gracefully as one can be after five heavy drinks, leaning suggestively over the bar ledge. She stumbled off her chair the same time he shut the lights to the pub. Swaggering her way over to him, she then rose on her tip toes to whisper something in his ear.
A half hour later they found themselves tangled together on a small bed at the local Motel 8.
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Nick switched the windshield wipers on as the rain began to trickle down. Normally Nick didn't mind the rain, yet now its sole purpose seemed only to taunt him, to reflect his emotions and remind him of his dreary mood and impossible life. He distractedly listened to the swooshing sounds of the wipers rhythmically dancing across his windshield as he drove to the lab for his regular night shift; he found himself already looking forward to the time when he'd be able to clock out.
His previous night of work passed by with agonizing slowness. It wasn't even the massive amounts of paperwork he had to fill out and file that got to him; it was the loneliness. For two hours he sat unaided in one of the lab rooms working, occasionally being visited by Greg and Catherine, but for the most part alone with his thoughts. He wondered every so often how Sara was holding up, what she was doing to cope with her mandatory leave and newly found free time. He also wondered how he'd get along without a partner for the next couple of weeks or so.
He debated calling her earlier in the day but almost immediately dismissed the notion for the simple reason that he was just too angry. Angry with her, angry with himself, angry with how complicated his thoughts were, he wasn't sure. He just knew he was angry and that calling her wouldn't lead to a peaceful conversation.
Is she thinking about me at all? He found himself briefly wondering.
The spattering of heavier rain drops disturbed his thought. In the distance through the windshield lightning could be seen streaking across the sky, followed by a faint thunder.
"Just terrific." He sarcastically muttered under his breath. Get ready for another fun filled night at the lab.
Nick accelerated a bit, in hopes that the sooner he arrived to work, the sooner it would be over. And at that moment he was, of course, completely unaware of just how horrific his night would be.
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Connie Trevorson's wedding was held on a Saturday morning at an Episcopal church in downtown San Francisco.
She hadn't seen him sneak in and sit quietly in the back as she exchanged her vows. She hadn't seen him watching her, smirking as she pledged her love and faithfulness to another man. No, that day she hadn't seen him. He often wondered what she would have done if she had.
Months later he moved to Las Vegas. Sure, he loved the grand city just as much as the next guy, but it wasn't his fascination of the flashy lights, the casinos, or the strip clubs that prompted his move. It was his fascination of Connie. When he learned that her husband got a job offer in Vegas and they would be leaving, he knew where he needed to be.
It was in Vegas where he learned the most about Connie. He began stalking her regularly, carefully, so that no one would see what he was up to. He routinely went to her home to watch her, to see how she lived. She never suspected his presence. He was very good about keeping himself quiet and hidden beneath the shadows.
Connie gave birth to her first child that year. Because of the new baby in the house, she took a leave from work and was at home to tend to the child's needs.
He often wondered if the baby was the reason Connie and Frank began drifting apart. They spent less and less time with each other, and when they were together it seemed as if it took no effort for them to argue and fight, raising their voices just loud enough for him to hear from the outside of the house.
When Connie returned to work a year later, she began seeing someone named Jordan. In his early 20s, he was young and attractive and worked in her bank. As much as this angered him, he was glad to see that her marriage was becoming almost worthless to her and that the time was near for him to step into the picture again. Soon, he would become part of her life.
And he was. Not long after, he purposefully "bumped" into her after she was leaving her day shift at the bank. She looked pleasantly surprised to see him, and that encouraged him all the more. He made sure she believed it was purely coincidental, them moving to and living in the same city after all these years of having the one night stand.
That night they went to an upscale bar and he bought her a few beers. They talked for hours and before they went their own ways for the night, she slipped him her cell phone number.
It became routine for them—meeting up after her work to have a drink or two, occasionally going back to his place. It was a passionate affair, and never once did she portray guilt or seem as if she intended to break it off with him.
Nevertheless, more years went by and Connie gave birth to another child. He was bothered at this, yet soon became indifferent to it because of the rift it had left in Connie's marriage. The worse her marriage, the more time he got with her.
He hadn't seen it coming when it did, but things began to change. Connie began spending less time with her husband and less time with him as well. He called her work on a daily basis, even dropped by often to know where she was. Many times, she had left early with no explanation of where she went. He placed angry phone calls to her cell phone, demanding that she see him. Sometimes she called back, sometimes she didn't, either way it didn't seem much of a priority for her to see him anymore.
Connie divorced Frank soon after, yet it was blatantly clear that he was not the reason for it. He soon learned of her many affairs with other men. After weeks of trying to get in touch with her, he went to her house and waited for hours for her to return. It was clear that she was jolted by presence as she pulled into her driveway, her kids in tow. She yelled for them to get inside the house, to go upstairs while she dealt with some business outside.
He yelled in her face, screaming that she pulled him along, that she toyed with his emotions. She laughed and told him that he never meant anything more to her than a weekend fling. Following the huge blowout in her driveway, she told him she was moving anyway, leaving with the children, and would in no way share with him her destination.
She had died too young, some would say. And in his mind maybe that was true. Yet it had to be done. Driven by compulsion, he had no other choice.
She had planned on taking away the one thing that was just as much his as it was hers: Claire.
And now was the time to claim his possession, to get his child back.
In the shadows behind the trees, he looked up at the unaware house. Every nerve in his body was tuned and hummed with anticipation. Then with his right hand, he reached next to him and gripped the cold steel gun.
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What started off as a steady rain, soon developed into a full fledged downpour. Had Sara known how terrible the weather would have been when she left her apartment earlier, she probably would have stayed indoors, waited the rain out. Now it seemed almost silly to turn back. She was minutes away from the safe house.
Lightning flashed not far from her Tahoe, and the thunderous, rippling effect made her heart thump heavily against her chest. Squinting hard, wishing her windshield wipers were at that moment capable of moving faster, she let her concentration focus solely on her driving. The sun had just set, and although it was not yet black out, the sky hinted at darkness, making it hard for her to see without much light.
As she turned onto the woodsy gravel road that led to the safe house, Sara felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Because it was storming out, Sara attributed her uneasiness to the weather. However, as she drew nearer to the house, the dread and anxiety became almost unbearable.
Just yards now from the house, as she saw the image displayed through her windshield, she knew why. Sara's breath caught in her throat at the sight of it all.
Two women from the safe house stood on the front porch. One frantically paced back and forth, hysterically talking into a portable phone. The other one was on her knees.
She heard the women's ear-piercing screaming over the pounding rain.
Throwing her vehicle into park, Sara jumped out into the blinding rainfall, rushing towards the house.
Both women looked pale, almost nauseous, their eyes haunted.
The one woman still cried out as if she were hyperventilating, frenetically pointing her finger towards the muddy road.
"What's going on!" Sara called through the drenching rain, her heart furiously pounding.
"He took her!" The woman's voice was heavy with terror and panic as shook uncontrollably.
Sara stopped short. She spun her head around her, her eyes alert, darting to the road, then to the woods, back to the women. "Wha—what do you mean?!"
The rain fell with more intensity. Sara did not notice.
The woman then covered her face with her hands, rocking back and forth, crouched to the ground.
"He took her….he took her." She still repeated, her cries muffled with her hands, lost in a world of shock.
The other woman clicked off the phone, tears streaming down her face. "Claire," She answered shakily, her voice tight and remote. "He took Claire."
Sara did not know exactly what happened next. Within seconds, however, she was behind the steering wheel of her Tahoe. It fishtailed sideways as she gunned the engine and headed off down the narrow road with only one mission in mind: Save Claire.
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A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update…went on vacation for a few days and used my time to relax and bask in the sun. Thanks for hanging in there; there should be a new chapter up sooner this time around! As always, please review and give me your take on the chapter! More to come…trust me, next chapter will be intense!
We live by encouragement and die without it--slowly, sadly, angrily.--Celeste Holm
You need to be aware of what others are doing, applaud their efforts, acknowledge their successes, and encourage them in their pursuits. When we all help one another, everybody wins.--Jim Stovall
