Part Nineteen - Elysium
(Interim - Play with Fire, Inside the Box)
He wasn't sure what exactly woke him, but Cyrus was in no mood to open up his eyes, preferring instead to press his body closer to the woman in bed with him, pulling her closer to him. Her back was against his chest, and without opening his eyes, he buried his head in her neck, placing a couple of small, quick kisses there. His actions woke her, he knew that from the way she squirmed against him, from the way she arched her neck to grant him better access, but she didn't seem in any great hurry to move either.
Forcing himself to open his eyes, he squinted around the room, saw from the clock on the bedside table that it was about time that he should be getting up, leaving to run some errands. He didn't want to though, would much rather stay here with her. He'd been feeling that way every time he'd woken up with her in the last five days, and he didn't see himself changing his tune on the matter any time soon, which surprised him. Regardless of how long he'd wanted things to happen between him and Sara, and regardless of how long they'd actually officially been together - a few days if you counted from the time of the explosion, a couple of weeks if you counted back to the night of the carnival - he was beginning to think that he could quite easily spend the rest of his life with her, just like this.
Propping himself on one elbow, he looked down at her, once again sleeping peacefully. Her cheeks were pink, her eyelashes dark against them, a small smile playing around her lips, and he studied her for a long moment as was his new habit, etching the sight into his memory. He considered waking her up but decided against it, because he knew from things he'd heard around the lab, not to mention things he'd observed firsthand over the last few nights, that she hardly ever slept, and he wasn't going to disturb her rest.
Especially not when she looked like that.
Slowly, carefully, he slipped out of bed, was padding across the floor to the bathroom when a mumble from the bed stopped him in his tracks. "Cyrus?" It was his name, though not clearly so, and he smiled, turning and heading back to the bed, kneeling down beside her. Reaching out, he touched her cheek, brushing a finger over her skin, continuing on to run his hand over her hair. She took a deep breath, not opening her eyes, then asked, in that same sleepy mumble, "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," he half-lied, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Go back to sleep."
"Mmmm-kay."
He stayed where he was until he was sure that she was asleep again, then continued on his way, smiling all the while. He was enjoying this new facet of his relationship with Sara, the things that he was learning about her, things that constantly surprised him.
He would never have believed, after it having taken them a long time to get to where they were, that Sara would be so passionate about their relationship. Nor would he have imagined that, for someone who had professed to want to keep their relationship quiet, to see where they would end up, that she would be so nonchalant when people they both knew asked them about it. Ever since the explosion, he'd taken to dropping her off and picking her up from work, before heading back to her place and staying there. On the second day he'd done that, she'd walked out of the lab with Nick, who had come over to the car with her, the largest smirk that Cyrus had ever seen spread across his face. "Well well well," he'd said, looking directly at Cyrus as he'd met them halfway. "What would you be doing here at this time of day?"
Cyrus had smiled, but stayed silent, waiting to follow Sara's lead. He was sure she'd have some snappy retort, but he hadn't expected her to shake her head, giving Nick a glare. "Ignore him." She'd been looking at Nick, but talking to Cyrus, and she'd slipped an arm around his waist, reaching up to kiss his lips briefly. "He's been like this all day."
"And you haven't killed him yet?" Cyrus had put an arm around Sara's waist too, pulling her close to him, not missing the amused look on Nick's face at their little display. There hadn't been the slightest hint of embarrassment on Sara's face though, which he'd taken to be a good thing.
"Oh, believe you me, she's threatened plenty," Nick had told him. "But threats don't sound the same when she's smiling like that."
Sara had looked down at the ground, but not before Cyrus had seen the grin that she was indeed sporting, and he'd chuckled too. "I don't imagine so," he'd allowed, uttering an exclamation when Sara had slapped his arm. "What was that for?"
"You're not supposed to agree with him," Sara had told him, and he'd arranged his face in a suitably contrite expression.
"Yes dear."
His words had made Nick roll his eyes, hold up his hands as if in surrender. "I really don't need to be around for this," he'd decided. "Sara, I'll see you later. Cyrus, basketball… "
"Yeah, we missed this week." Unspoken between them had been the fact that they had planned to play on the same day that the lab had exploded. "Usual time next week?"
Nick had nodded, moving away. "Wouldn't miss it." He'd turned, lifting a hand in farewell. "Later."
Cyrus half-expected him to turn around and say something else to them, but he'd been distracted when Sara had turned to him, smiling up at him and resting both her hands on his waist. His hands had gone of their own accord to her back, running up and down lazily, his head dipping so that their lips met.
He never would have figured Sara Sidle for one who indulged in public displays of affection in the CSI parking lot, but he wasn't going to complain. And when they'd gone back to her place, curling up on the couch with a pizza and a bottle of wine, he hadn't complained about that either.
It was one thing, he considered now, to be comfortable with the two of them in front of Nick. After all, he was friends with the two of them, he'd been the one who'd first set the two of them up. It had been a different matter the next day, when he'd once again picked her up after work, but instead of going straight back to her apartment - which was starting to feel more and more like his apartment too - they'd gone grocery shopping.
It hadn't been a spur of the moment decision; rather the previous evening, he'd been looking to make something to go with the pizza, and had been shocked by the state of her kitchen cupboards and refrigerator. "What do you eat?" he'd demanded, and she hadn't been upset by his question, had just laughed.
"I eat plenty," she'd told him.
"Plenty of junk," he'd replied, looking at her cooker, which still looked shiny new. "When was the last time you did any cooking in this place?" When she hadn't answered immediately, he'd made a noise of disgust. "I knew it."
"I can cook, ok?"
"Sure you can." He'd spoken with the air of one who was throwing down the gauntlet, and she'd reacted as he knew she would, folding her arms across her chest, issuing the challenge right back.
"Want me to prove it to you?"
"It would be nice," he'd said. "Not that you're going to get a chance tonight… "
"Tomorrow then. We'll go shopping after work, and I… will cook." She'd sounded considerably more hesitant towards the end, as if she realised what she was getting into, but he'd had no intention of letting her out of it.
So he'd picked her up at the lab, driven her to the store, and he had to admit, he'd enjoyed walking around with her, haggling over what they should buy and what they shouldn't. He'd insisted on a certain type of cheese, telling her that his mother had a secret recipe for cheese and toast that she had to try, and she'd rolled her eyes in disbelief, pointing out that there was only so much you could do with cheese on toast. He'd asked if she'd care to make another bet on that, since he'd done so well with the last one, and she'd just given him one of her patented dirty looks. She'd accepted the cheese but had drawn the line when he'd tried to put a box of Fruit Loops into the trolley, putting them back on the shelf, muttering something about processed food of the devil. He'd got his own back though, when she'd tried to introduce eggplant into his diet. "I will do many things for you," he'd told her, tossing it back on to the pile, trying not to let his mind run in all kinds of salacious directions when she raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "But eating eggplant is not one of them."
"Fine," she'd said, throwing up her hands in good-natured exasperation. "Your loss." At that, he'd decided to hell with where they were; after all, he'd kissed her the previous day in full view of whomsoever might have been walking through the CSI parking lot. So he hadn't felt the least bit awkward closing the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers, and she mustn't have either, because she responded to the kiss, her hand going to the back of his head, holding him in place when he'd initially tried to pull away.
She'd grinned at him when she'd stepped back, and at first he'd returned the smile, until his eyes focussed on something over her shoulder. Then the smile froze on his face, just for a moment, but long enough for her to see his hesitation, to turn around, still chuckling, and see what he was seeing. Grissom was standing there, looking at them, his face slack with surprise, shopping basket hanging limply at his side, and Cyrus couldn't remember a time when he'd ever seen the other man look so ill-at-ease. In the instant before any of them spoke, Cyrus had wondered how Sara would react, because after all, it wasn't as if it was Nick, or Warrick or any of her other colleagues. It was Grissom, her boss, and if the rumour mill was in any way accurate, the man on whom she'd had something of a crush for quite some time. He wouldn't have blamed her had she reacted with dismay, had put some distance between them, but she hadn't. Her cheeks had reddened slightly, but she'd kept smiling, not a flicker of anything on her face as she said, "Hey Grissom."
"Sara." Grissom had nodded at her, but his gaze had lingered on Cyrus. "Detective." The look had been vaguely curious, the same kind of look that Cyrus had seen on his face from time to time when Grissom was studying evidence, and he hadn't felt too comfortable with it being directed at him. He'd been unsure what to say, had been glad when Grissom had continued by saying, "I didn't expect to see you here."
Sara had rolled her eyes, giving Cyrus's waist a squeeze. "I'm trying to expand Cyrus's palette," she'd said, phraseology that Cyrus had known was designed to get a response out of him, and it had worked.
"You say expand, I say poison… "
Grissom's eyes had been darting between the two of them, but if Sara had noticed, she hadn't said anything, continuing on as if he hadn't spoken. "He dares me to make dinner, then refuses to let me buy eggplant, so I can stuff it." She'd given an exaggerated shrug, looking up at Cyrus. "I had a plan."
Cyrus had snickered, but it had been Grissom who spoke. "You were going to cook?"
Sara had glared at Cyrus, warning him with no words not to say a word, before turning the full force of her glare on Grissom. "I can cook." She'd ground out the words, and Grissom, his eyes still travelling between Sara and Cyrus, had just nodded, taking a step back.
"Well… I'll let you get back to it… "
Neither Sara nor Cyrus even had the chance to say anything in return before he was gone, and Cyrus had looked down at Sara. "Did that go well?" he'd asked, because he really couldn't tell, and she'd just shrugged, passing the whole thing off.
"It's Grissom," was all she'd said. "Who can tell?"
But Cyrus had the thought in his head that if anyone would be able to tell, it would have been her, and he'd watched her carefully for the remainder of the night, to see if there was any doubt, any change in her attitude that might have been explained by their encounter with Grissom.
He'd seen nothing.
They'd finished shopping, they'd gone back to Sara's place, made dinner and curled up in front of the television, before finally going to bed and making love. And not once had he seen a single thing that made him think she might be having second thoughts, just the opposite in fact. He'd asked her, as they lay on her couch, whether Nick had kept up his teasing that day, and she'd chuckled, telling him it hadn't just been Nick. "It's been Warrick and Lea and Greg, and I think Hodges in Trace would have if he had a sense of humour… " she'd observed, a tiny frown appearing between her eyebrows at the mention of the last name.
"And you're ok with that?" he'd asked, causing her to look up at him in surprise.
"I can handle it," she'd told him, a salacious smile spreading across her features. "Besides, I'm coming out of it pretty well… "
The comment had been designed to one effect, and he didn't let her down. "That a fact?" he'd asked, leaning over to kiss her.
"What about you?" she'd asked him later, and he'd blinked, because their earlier conversation had been somewhat driven out of his mind. "Oh, don't tell me you're getting off lightly," she'd continued, interpreting his silence as an absence of news, rather than confusion. "Then I'll just have to kill you."
"There have been one or two comments," he'd said, and she'd nodded in satisfaction. "And a particularly interesting conversation with Brass."
Her face had registered interest, so he'd told her the full story. It had been the first day after the explosion, and he'd been on his way to the police department after dropping her off at work when Brass had called him, asking him to come to his office when he got in. Cyrus had obeyed, feeling a certain sense of déjà vu as he walked down the hall, all the more so when he'd leaned against Brass's door, asking, "You were looking for me?" He'd said the same words when Brass had called him in here a couple of weeks earlier, when he and Sara and Warrick had been working on the case of the two kids found dead in the desert.
The sense of déjà vu had grown even stronger when Brass had beckoned him in, adding the command, "And close the door behind you." He hadn't taken his eyes off Cyrus as he'd come across the room, sitting down across from him, and Cyrus hadn't been the slightest bit surprised at his next words. "So… you and Sidle."
It hadn't been a question, nor had it been a condemnation, and Cyrus hadn't quite known how to respond. "Yeah," he'd said, his voice level, waiting for Brass to make the next move.
"Stokes informed me of a certain phone call that he made," Brass had said. "After I'd heard about it from other sources around the lab. And it interested me, because I had you in here a few weeks ago, and you told me the two of you were just friends. Which I didn't believe for an instant, but hey." He lifted up his hands in the universal gesture of helplessness. "It's your business, and I'm a supportive guy right?" Cyrus had nodded, it seeming to be the appropriate response. "I call you when the lab goes up. I tell you when it looks like she's falling apart, because I figure if anyone can help her, it's going to be you. Her friend." The last word was said in a tone of complete scepticism, Brass's fingers even curling in quotation marks as he spoke. "Then I find out all this."
He'd stopped then, giving Cyrus a chance to reply, and Cyrus had taken his time, trying to come up with the right words. "You know how work place things can go," he'd said eventually. "We were trying to keep it quiet, figure out where we were going. We still are." Because even though they'd slept together, even though he was happier than he'd ever been, he didn't want to tempt fate.
"Hey, hey." Brass had held up both hands, stopping him. "I'm not here to bust your chops about this. I told you before, I couldn't care less about what the rules say here. You two keep your private lives off the job and I don't care what you do. In fact, far as I'm concerned, you and I never even had this conversation." Pausing to allow Cyrus to take that in, he'd continued with, "That being said. Sara's had a rough year this year… the Winters case, that scumball paramedic, now the explosion… and I'm betting you already know this, but she ain't as tough as she likes to put across."
None of this had been news to Cyrus, but hearing it from Brass of all people had taken the wind out of his sails considerably. "I know that."
"She's a good kid, is what I'm saying." Brass had leaned forward intently, resting his elbows on his desk. "I wouldn't like to see her hurt."
Cyrus had had to fight very hard to keep the shock from showing on his face as he'd realised that Brass had called him in here to ascertain his intentions towards Sara, beating down a laugh of pure surprise. "I would never hurt her," he'd replied instead, meeting the older man's gaze, hoping he could see the sincerity in his eyes.
Brass had once more lifted his hands wide, shrugging his shoulders. "Then we're not going to have a problem," he'd said simply, going back to the files and folders on his desk, looking up a few seconds later and seeming surprised to find Cyrus still there. "We're done."
Cyrus had left the office, hardly able to believe what had just transpired, and when he'd told Sara, she'd felt the same. "Brass?" she'd asked, her accent broader than usual, showing her surprise. "Brass said all that to you?" Cyrus had nodded, and a chuckle had escaped her lips. "You're making that up."
"Not a bit. He good as told me that if I hurt you, I'd have him to answer to." He brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek as he spoke. "Bet you never knew he held you in such high regard huh?" She'd smiled, but Cyrus knew her well enough by now to see the emotion under the surface, knew that she really was touched by the older man's concern. "You do know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right?" he'd asked her then, just to make sure, and he'd seen her swallow hard.
"Yeah," she'd whispered. "I know that." She hadn't let him say anything else though, pulling him to her, kissing him hard, before standing from the couch, leading him to the bedroom.
He pulled himself back to reality at that juncture, knowing that any further thoughts like that were going to lead to him joining her back in bed, blowing the careful plans that he had for them for their day off. Showering and shaving quickly, he made his way back to the bedroom, finding his clothes scattered all around the place, putting them on. He was almost ready to go when he heard her stirring. He didn't say anything, didn't even look around, hoping that if he was still, she'd go back to sleep, but that plan came to naught when her sleepy voice came across the room. "Where are you going?"
He turned then, walked over to her and looked down at her. She'd rolled over onto her back, was rubbing her eyes sleepily, her cheeks flushed pink with sleep; all in all, a very inviting picture. "I'm heading into town," he told her, sinking down on the bed beside her, his hand drawn to her hair like a moth to a flame. "I've got some errands to run … and I've got to make a pit stop at my place first." She frowned, her hands reaching out to run up his arms, her eyes becoming more alert, and he had a feeling that if he stayed any longer, he was never going to get out of here. "I'll be as quick as I can," he promised. "Then I'm coming back here … cook dinner for you… " His hands slipped around her body, to the smooth skin of her back, pulling her up to him. "Start keeping you in the style to which you're going to become accustomed… "
She chuckled at his phrasing, kissing him warmly, pulling him into a hug when he broke away. "Some change from yesterday," she told him, and he had to give her that, remembering how the previous day when the alarm went off, it had been he who had tried to convince her to stay in bed a few minutes longer.
"I'll be as quick as I can," he promised again, kissing her quickly again before releasing her, letting her lie back down again. The sheet slipped a little as he moved, exposing her body to his gaze, and he didn't miss the look in her eyes when she saw him looking at her, couldn't help but notice that she took her sweet time covering herself up. "I'll see you later," he said, kissing her one last time, taking a step away from her.
He half-turned at her words. "If you let me get dressed, I'll go... " She stopped suddenly, the word "go" suddenly having some seven extra syllables, Sara having been overtaken by a yawn in the middle of it.
"The only place you're going," he told her firmly, "Is back to sleep."
She shot him a disgusted look, but she didn't argue, just rolled over in bed, pulling his pillow towards her and closing her eyes. "Take the spare key with you," she muttered, but other than that, she was asleep before he'd made it to the bedroom door.
As quietly as possible, he made his way to the kitchen, and only when he got there did he realise that he didn't actually know where she kept her spare key. Deciding he'd get it when he came back, he left the apartment, a wide smile on his face.
He kept smiling the whole way back to his place, mentally putting together a shopping list of the things he'd need to pick up at the store, comparing it to what was still left from his trip with Sara a couple of days before, deciding that he should also check it against what was in his own kitchen too. Thus when he got back to his place, that was the first thing he did; the second being to change his clothes, wondering absently would it be out of line if he brought some stuff over to Sara's place and left it there; save him having to run back and forth all the time. After all, he hadn't spent a night in this place since the lab had exploded, and Sara's place was rapidly becoming more and more like home to him. Deciding that it would wait until tomorrow, when he'd actually had a chance to discuss it with Sara, he moved into the kitchen, checking the mail that he'd thrown on the counter when he'd first come in, finding the bills that he needed to pay, knowing that he could stop at the bank on his way to the store.
The last thing he did at home was to check his messages, the little red light blinking the figure three at him. The first was an old buddy of his from college, calling to catch up. The second was Nick, his voice full of amusement. "Hey man, it's me… guess I know where you are if you're not at home. I'm not going to interrupt that… again … so I guess I'll call you on your cell later." A click indicated that Nick had hung up, and the next voice that Cyrus heard was his sister's. "Hey Cyrus, it's Kim. We haven't heard from you in a few days," she said, her voice, like Nick's, highly amused, and Cyrus had the feeling that she knew more than she was saying. That much was confirmed with her next words. "Though from talking to Dad, I'd say I know the reason for that. You've been holding out on me big brother, and I want details. Call me when you get this."
Grinning, Cyrus picked up the phone and punched in the number that he knew by heart, knowing that it was more than his life was worth to delay this particular call. Kim might have been his baby sister, but since their mother had died, she'd stepped in to fill the gap, inviting him over for dinner every week, sometimes to make sure that he was eating right, sometimes to fix him up, not caring how unsubtle she was about it. If she'd talked to his father about him and Sara, then she already had at least twenty four hours worth of questions built up; he'd last spoken to his father two days ago, the same day that he and Sara had bumped into Grissom at the store.
Then, as now, he'd been paying a flying visit home, but he'd caught his father's call, had been perfectly happy trading anecdotes with him. He'd had no intention of telling him that he was seeing anyone, but his father had surprised him, asking him point blank, "So… who is she?"
Cyrus had been stunned into momentary silence, the best comeback he could come up with being, "What do you mean?"
His father had laughed. "Come on now Cyrus… I know that tone of voice. You've got yourself a young lady there in Vegas, and I mean to know all about her."
"And how do you come to that conclusion?"
There had been a pfft of disgust from the other end. "Because you've got the worst poker face, or voice, in history. Just like your Momma. Who is she?"
Sighing, Cyrus had given it up as a bad job. "Her name is Sara. She's a crime scene investigator."
"What's she like?"
Cyrus had paused, considering. "She's great Dad… you'd like her. She's pretty tough … feisty I think is a good word… "
"Doesn't let you away with anything?"
"That's one way of putting it." He'd been a little surprised that he was having so much trouble characterising Sara, but there were so many things about her that he liked, so many of her little quirks and nuances that it was hard to put them into words. "She's pretty stubborn," he remembered, one word that he'd long since thought of in conjunction with Sara, and not in a bad way. "Can't forget that one … "
Laughing, his father had interrupted him. "Say no more son, say no more." He'd kept laughing, and Cyrus hadn't been able to work out what was so funny until he'd added, "I always heard something about men going for women who were like their mother… "
The simple comparison had brought a lump to Cyrus's throat, because he wished that his mother could have met Sara, knew in his heart of hearts that the two women would have got along famously. Perhaps his father had known that, because he'd changed the subject back to neighbourhood affairs, about the terrible job that Mr Sullivan down the block was making of his front garden this year. The conversation hadn't lasted far beyond that, but when his father had been saying goodbye, he'd dropped a hint that maybe he'd come out to Vegas sometime soon, "And you can introduce me to your Sara."
Cyrus had, at the time, wondered about what Sara would do if she'd heard herself so described, but hadn't corrected his father, liking the sound of it too much. He'd just said his goodbye and gone on about his business. His father on the other hand, he surmised as he waited for Kim to pick up the phone, had probably dialled her number straight away, wanting to know what she knew about Sara. The fact that the answer would have been nothing at all would have driven his sister crazy, and he wasn't sure of the reaction that he was going to get when she picked up.
"Hey Kim, it's me," he said, grinning into the phone, sinking down onto the couch.
"Hey there stranger," came her reply. "Thank you so much for almost waking up your niece."
Cyrus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at her dry tone. "You want me to ring back?" he quipped, and he could just imagine the dirty look she was giving him at the other end of the line.
"No I do not, since you finally remembered that you have a sister." There was a second's pause, to allow him to feel appropriately guilty he imagined, before she followed up with, "Guess you've found someone else to spend your time with, huh?"
"You talked to Dad." There was no point in beating around the bush with Kim, Cyrus knew that from long experience.
"Yes I talked to Dad!" The words came out of Kim in an explosion, and Cyrus held the phone away from his ear for a moment. "Who is this woman, and why haven't I met her yet?"
"Her name is Sara," Cyrus told her. "And the reason you haven't met her is because it's new."
If he thought that would hold Kim, he was wrong. "Sara who?" she demanded. "And what do you mean new?"
"Sara Sidle. She's from California. And by new, I mean a couple of weeks."
"Cyrus!" Kim dragged out his name, but she was grinning by now, Cyrus could hear it in her voice. "You're impossible, I swear… come on, I want details. Where did you meet? What's she like? When are we going to meet her?"
"Kim, slow down." Cyrus could hardly keep up with the barrage of questions. "We met at work… "
"She's a cop?"
"Crime scene investigator." Anticipating the question, he told her, "She analyses the scene, collects evidence, processes it… she's got a Physics degree from Harvard."
"Brainy."
"Yeah."
"So what's she doing with you then?"
Cyrus saw the line coming a split second before Kim came out with it, but had no recourse to stop it. "I can hang up on you you know," he reminded her, the ultimate threat at the moment, and she laughed.
"I'll be good, I'll be good. What's she like?"
"Tall… dark hair, brown eyes… " Cyrus started with the physical, knowing from past experience that these were part of the details that Kim would want. "Killer smile… " He remembered that smile from earlier on that morning, his brain lingering on the image, and only another chuckle from the phone receiver brought him back to reality.
"Earth to Cyrus… Earth to Cyrus… "
"Sorry… " Dragging himself back to the conversation at hand, Cyrus realised that a couple of days hadn't made it any easier to describe Sara to people. "What's she like?" Repeating the question gave him time, and he sighed as he attempted to come up with something. "She's great," he finally managed, and to his surprise, there was no laughter, only silence from the other end of the line.
"You sound pretty nuts about her," Kim finally said, and while it was the truth, he raised an eyebrow anyway.
"You got that from great?"
Kim snickered. "I got that from your voice," she told him. "Besides, I've seen you before… when you're not so involved, you've got no problems talking. Get you serious about someone and you turn into Detective Lockjaw when you're trying to tell someone about them." There was no denying it, so Cyrus didn't bother, leaving Kim free to continue. "There's nothing else for it Cyrus, I'm just going to have to meet this girl for myself and make my own mind up."
She was teasing, but Cyrus was serious. "I'd like that," he said, and he could practically hear Kim's jaw drop. "But I'll have to talk to Sara."
"You mean it don't you?" Kim demanded, obviously flabbergasted. "You're really going to let us meet her?"
"Why not?"
"Why not? Why not, he asks me. Something to do with the fact that you never let us meet women you date?"
Cyrus shrugged. "Well… she's different," he said simply, and there was another long silence.
"You're really serious about her," Kim surmised, and he didn't reply, busy imagining Sara and Kim talking, getting along well. Imagining Sara meeting the rest of his family, his nieces and nephews, his father. It was a nice thought. "Bring her over today," Kim demanded. "I'll make dinner… I'll have to get something for dinner, but I'll make dinner… "
"We kinda have plans," Cyrus had to tell her. "We're both off today, so we were going to cook at her place… we don't get days off together much …" Which was why he was looking forward to it so much, was reluctant to give it up, even if it meant being deprived of the sights he'd just been dreaming about.
"You're cooking? It must be love," Kim laughed, and he wanted to say something, but she didn't give him a chance. "Fine. Bring her over later. You can have dessert here. What does she like to eat?"
Kim was like a dog with a bone, not unlike a certain other woman that Cyrus knew well. "I'll have to talk to Sara," he told her. "See what she says." Glancing up at the clock, he realised that he should be getting going. "Look, I've got some stuff to do before I meet her… can I call you back later, make plans then?"
"Absolutely. I'll call Rick, make sure he's home in time."
Well able to imagine what that conversation would go like, Cyrus rolled his eyes, making a mental note to get the exact details from Rick later on. "Great. Kiss Stephanie for me."
"Will do. Talk to you later."
"Later."
Hanging up the phone, he grabbed what he needed as quickly as he could, doing a quick once around to make sure that he hadn't left anything behind him. That much done, he checked to make sure that his badge and gun were secure - he knew he wasn't on duty, but in his experience, he could be called in at any time, and it never hurt to be prepared - he drove downtown to the First Monument bank.
He was later than he'd planned, and, as usually happens in such a situation, there was a long line of people waiting. Sighing, Cyrus took his place, knowing that since he was in a hurry, the line would no doubt crawl along, and was proven right as quickly as five minutes later, when he hadn't moved an inch. He briefly considered calling Sara to let her know that he'd been held up, because surely she'd be awake and out of bed by now, pushed his jacket aside to check for his cell phone, noticing as he did so, a little boy a couple of places ahead in the line staring at him. He smiled at the child, noting with some amusement how his eyes grew wider when they fell on his badge and gun, remembering how, as a child, he'd done the exact same thing. Just as his mother had done way back when, this child's mother looked down at the boy, followed his stare, and was, as mothers everywhere generally are in such a situation, mortified. "Jimmy, stop staring," she ordered, and Lockwood smiled at her, and the boy.
"It's ok Ma'am," he said, going back to his searching, deciding against calling Sara, reaching for his chequebook instead, willing the line to move faster. His gaze fell on Jimmy again, the little boy once again looking over his shoulder at him, and Cyrus realised that he was probably around the same age as Patrick and Charlie, his nephews, remembered his thoughts from earlier that morning, about Sara meeting them. That thought led to another memory from the last case that the two of them had worked together, when he'd walked back into the Frommer house, past Warrick on his cell phone, going to the nursery, seeing Sara there, walking around the room with the baby in her arms. She'd been muttering softly under her breath, trying to interest the child in various things in the room, and he hadn't spoken, hadn't wanted to disturb her. He'd been too busy imagining what Sara would be like with their own kids, and he'd chided himself at the time, because they'd barely been together for any length of time, hadn't even slept together at that point. He hadn't been able to deny that it was something that he wouldn't have minded at all though, and now, a scant couple of weeks later, he felt even more strongly about it. Fixing an image of his younger niece, Jessica, in his mind, he lightened her skin, gave her straight hair and Sara's eyes, the picture changing easily for him, making him smile.
His reverie was broken by a commotion near the door, the rest of the customers in the queue turning around to see what was happening. Cyrus was turning too, but just then the unmistakable sound of gunfire rent the air, the screams of the other customers coming immediately after.
Recognising what was happening, knowing that the best plan for all concerned was to do as they were told, Cyrus put his chequebook into his breast pocket, going to the plate glass window with the rest of the customers, leaning against it with his hands spread. He kept his eyes peeled though, observing all he could about the robbers, their height and size, keeping an eye out for any distinguishing marks. So he had a perfect view when one of them threatened Jimmy and his mom, the blonde woman obviously terrified for the life of her child. Cyrus wished that he could say something, anything, to reassure them, but knew he couldn't afford to call attention to himself.
As he watched, the gunmen shot out the glass window, ignoring the screams of the women around them. One of them grabbed the bank manager, pulling him down to the vault and out of sight, leaving Cyrus to commit as many details of the rest of the gunmen to memory as unobtrusively as possible. One in particular walked up and down among the customers, threatening them, telling them to keep quiet, and Cyrus paid close attention to his voice, hoping that he'd be able to recognise it later on. He didn't like the hysteria that was beginning to build up in Jimmy's mother's voice, didn't like the way the gunmen was reacting to it. He liked it even less when the walls shook, an explosion in the vault unless he missed his guess, and Jimmy flinched, his mother pulling him closer to her. Out of the corner of his eye, Lockwood could see the gunman lower his gun fractionally, and slowly and carefully pushed his jacket aside, just in case.
That's when he saw Jimmy's mother make a sudden move, evidently trying to get out of the bank. The gunman closed to them shouted something at them, raised his gun, and without even stopping to think, Cyrus did what he had been trained to do, did so instinctively.
He pulled his gun and aimed.