Part Twenty - Expire
(Inside the Box)
"Cath! You're back!"
Catherine half-turned when she heard Warrick's voice, throwing her jacket into her locker, giving him a beaming smile. "I am back," she said jauntily as she shut the locker door, leaning against it. "Miss me?"
"Of course," Warrick said smoothly, and while she wasn't sure that he really meant it, she appreciated the sentiment.
"So, fill me in on all the gossip around here," she said as they began their walk down to the break room, traditional starting point of the night shift as far as they were concerned. "Grissom said Greg was back at work already?"
Warrick blew a stream of air out between his pursed lips, shaking his head. "Came in last night. Gris told him to go home, he insisted on staying. Dude's still bandaged up, half dopey on pain meds, but he's working anyway."
"Is that wise?" Because after what they'd all just been through, it didn't seem so to Catherine, but Warrick just looked at her, shrugging.
"He wants to work," he said simply. "And we're all keeping tabs on him. He'll be fine. Besides," he added as they walked into the break room. "He brought his coffee with him."
Catherine laughed, intending to say something about manna from heaven, but Nick's voice stopped her. "And he said he'll kill the person who touches the pot," he called to them, looking at them over the top of his newspaper. "I'm just the messenger," he said, in response to Warrick's narrow-eyed glare, and Catherine laughed, enjoying the normality of the moment. She'd missed the banter at the start and close of shift more than she'd realised.
"Where's Sara?" she asked, missing the other woman who was never usually late for a shift, unless of course, she'd pulled a double on the last one. She knew she'd missed something when Warrick laughed outright, shaking his head again, and Nick put down his newspaper, a huge grin on his face.
"It's her night off," he told her, and she didn't quite understand the reason for their humour, because after all, it's not as if that had ever meant anything to Sara before.
"And she's taking it?" she asked, just to make sure, and Nick laughed.
"Oh, I would say so," was all she said, and Catherine looked from him to Warrick, who was hiding a smile in his mug of coffee.
"OK guys, spill. What am I missing?"
The two men looked at one another, two pairs of eyes dancing with mirth, and it was Warrick who caved first. "Sara's in love," he said simply, and Catherine's eyes grew wide with pure shock.
"You're kidding me," she managed, and Nick shook his head.
"Nope. Head over heels and she doesn't care who knows it. She's like, glowing or something."
Catherine looked from one to the other, not sure if they were putting her on, and Warrick nodded soberly at her. "It's true," he confirmed. "It's kinda freaky actually."
A laugh born of surprise bubbled up in Catherine's chest and she struggled for words. "With who?" she all but squeaked, still not entirely convinced that they were telling her the truth.
"Cyrus Lockwood," Nick told her, and she stopped laughing then, because she could practically hear the pieces clicking into place, along with the image of the two of them in a bar, talking to one another as if they were the only two people in the place. Sara had sworn black blue and blind at the time that there was nothing going on between them, and Catherine believed her. But she'd known that there was something in the air between them, and it was nice to know that she wasn't losing her touch. "You don't look surprised," Nick observed, and she shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm not," she said bluntly. "I saw them together once… and there was a vibe there… "
At the mention of the word "vibe" Nick sat up a little bit straighter, pointing a finger at Warrick. "Ah-ha!" he said triumphantly. "I told you there was a vibe between them." Warrick held up a hand and Nick explained to Catherine, "Lockwood's had a thing for her for ages, and I saw the same thing you did when they were together. Which is why I fixed them up… this guy here told me I was crazy."
"I said you were crazy for fixing Sara up," Warrick refuted. "And if I recall correctly, she wanted to boil you in oil afterwards."
"She got over it though, didn't she?" Nick countered, and Catherine was fighting the urge to send them to their respective corners when her cell phone rang.
Closing her eyes, she reached for it, muttering a silent prayer that it wasn't anything about Lindsey. The name on the display read Brass though, so she knew that it had to be work related, and she punched the answer button, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline rush through her.
It had taken a five-day suspension to remind her how much she loved her job.
"Willows," she said into the phone, fighting back a smile as Warrick drifted over beside Nick. The two of them were still debating whether Nick was responsible for Sara's current happiness or not, and she had to focus to concentrate on Brass.
"Cath, I'm at the First Monument Bank. You need to get down here, Grissom's already on his way."
She frowned, because there was something in his voice that she'd never heard there before, and she couldn't place what it was. "What've we got?" she asked, standing, giving a signal to Warrick and Nick.
"Armed robbery, shots fired, explosion in the vault," Brass said tersely, and she repeated the words as she heard them for Warrick and Nick's benefit. She didn't repeat the next words though, "And an officer down."
Closing her eyes, she let out a breath, muttering, "Shit." When she opened her eyes again, Nick and Warrick were staring at her in concern. "Officer down," she said, and their expressions matched her feelings.
She was all ready to tell Brass that they were on their way, and it was then that she realised the man was still talking. "Look, Catherine… is Sara there?"
Catherine blinked. "Sara? Why?"
There was a long pause, and Catherine could feel her heart drop into her boots as her mind leaped to make the connection between Brass's tone, his question, and what he'd just told her. Only one thing could tie them all together, but that couldn't be. It would be too cruel... wouldn't it?
"Catherine… the officer down? It's Cyrus Lockwood."
Catherine's breath went in in a horrified gasp, and her free hand flew to her mouth. Warrick and Nick were to her side in seconds, Warrick taking hold of her elbow firmly, and the touch brought her back to reality, gave her the wherewithal to say, "We'll take care of it. I'll see you there."
She closed the phone with a snap, looking down at it for a second, then from side to side at Nick and Warrick. "What's wrong?" Warrick's voice was infinitely gentle, and she hated to say the words, especially in view of what they'd just been discussing.
"The officer down," she said, and she saw the realisation play across their faces.
"No… " Nick breathed, and all she could do was nod.
"But they were supposed to be spending the day together at her place, he was off duty," Warrick said, his brow furrowing, and Catherine lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"Well, she's not with him," she said. "Brass was looking for her."
Nick's jaw was set firmly, and to Catherine's eyes, he looked to be holding back tears. "I'll go over to her place, see if she's there."
"You don't mind?" Catherine wouldn't have wanted that particular job for diamonds, but Nick nodded.
"I'll come with," Warrick said. "We'll meet you there. Does Gris-"
"Brass said he's on his way," Catherine told them. "You guys go, I'll see you there." They were gone in seconds, leaving Catherine standing alone in the break room, looking around her at the walls that had only minutes before rung with their laughter. "Welcome back," she muttered to herself before heading to the locker room.
***
She wasn't sure what woke her, but Sara had no desire to leave the dream that she was having. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, pulled the covers closer around her in an effort to recapture lost sleep, but all to no avail. Surrendering to the inevitable, she stretched languidly, arching her body, stretching out one arm behind her. She encountered only empty space there, and she chided herself mentally for the gesture. She'd known that he'd left before she fell back asleep, and she told herself that even if he had returned in the meantime, he was hardly going to climb back into bed beside her. Well, the thought occurred to her, bringing a smile with it, not without waking her anyway.
Rolling over in bed, she sat up, stretching again, calling out his name. Only silence greeted her, and, just to be sure, she got up and, pulling on a T-shirt that had been flung across the chair, padded into her living room. Just as she'd suspected, she was alone in her apartment, but a look at the clock told her that she wouldn't have been expecting him back yet anyway. A further check of her kitchen drawer told her that he hadn't taken her at her word, for her spare key still resided there, and she shook her head, promising herself that she'd have severe words with him over that when she did get back.
Deciding that she might as well use her time wisely, she decided not to eat anything - after all, he'd promised to cook for her, and she didn't want to spoil that treat. So she went back the way she'd come and further, into the bathroom, stepping under the shower and washing her hair. She didn't worry about what would happen if he arrived at the door when she was so occupied - serve him right for not taking the key with him.
She was dressed in blue jeans and a red top when she next entered her living room, and a glance at the clock had her frowning. She would have thought he'd be back here by now. Debating whether or not to call him, she shook her head, figuring that he'd just have got stuck somewhere. Out of sheer habit, she flicked on her police scanner, frowning when she heard the reports of shots being fired at the First Monument Bank. She vaguely knew the building, though she didn't bank there herself, and she was pretty sure that evidence processing that place would be a nightmare. But tonight she grinned, as she began running her brush through her hair, it was someone else's nightmare.
She had all the tangles combed out of her hair and he still hadn't appeared, hadn't called, and she promised herself that if neither had happened by the time she'd finished drying her hair that she'd call him, probably with a teasing joke about the allure being gone already. She set to blow-drying her hair with the intensity she usually reserved for one of her lab experiments - and the task was done with considerably less enthusiasm, as far as she was concerned, it was one of life's necessary evils- and during one of her pauses to brush out her hair, she thought she heard the words officer down, but she didn't take any notice of it.
Tonight was her night off, and she was going to enjoy it.
She'd just switched off the dryer and put down her brush for the last time when the doorbell rang, and she was taken aback when she saw her reaction in the mirror. A broad smile spread across her face, a rush of delight and expectation spreading through her, and she couldn't believe that it was she, Sara Sidle, who was reacting like this. Not even when she was a teenager had she been given to such displays of emotion. She was even more surprised to realise though, that she really didn't mind them that much.
She allowed herself an evil little smile as she made her way to the door, and if she made it there slightly quicker than she ever had in her life, then she wasn't going to worry about it. She ran comments through her head as she walked - what zinger would she throw at him, would it be about being late, or about not doing as he was told and taking her spare key?
Sure that it was him, she didn't check the peephole, and any and all words flew out of her head when she saw Warrick and Nick standing there. They were both looking at her seriously, both wearing CSI windbreakers, and she knew exactly what they were there for. "Oh no," she said quickly, and they glanced at one another, frowning. "Forget about it guys," she continued, talking quickly lest they tell her about some wonderful case that sounded too interesting to pass up. "This is my night off, I have plans… can't you tell Gris that you couldn't find me or something?"
"Sara… " It was Nick who spoke, and something about the tone of his voice had her looking at him sharply. "Can we come in?"
She frowned, but she stepped back, opening the door wide to them, letting them through. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking from one to the other as they looked at one another, and she knew them well enough to know that whatever they had to say, neither of them wanted to say it. "Guys?"
It was Warrick who broke first. "Sara… there was a robbery at the First Monument Bank."
"I know," she said, when it became clear that that was all he was going to say. His eyes flared wide with alarm, and she gestured to behind them, into the apartment. "I heard it on the scanner." She glanced back and forth between them again. "You're here to tell me I have to work, right?"
Nick drew in his breath sharply, took a step towards her, which felt odd enough, but nowhere near as odd as it felt when he took both her hands in his. "Sara," he said slowly, and the only thing she could think about was that his hands were like ice. "Cyrus was there."
The world seemed to tilt around her for a moment, a moment when the only things that were clear, the only things she could focus on, were the brown orbs of pain that were Nick's eyes, and the fact that the cold was spreading from his hands into hers, up her arms and into her chest, from there into her heart and up into her brain. Before it froze entirely though, it made a connection that it didn't want to make, with the way that they were both there to tell her this on her night off and the way that Nick was holding her hands.
"No… " It didn't sound a bit like her voice, and through the ice on her back, she felt Warrick's warm palm.
"Sara." Though his hand was on her back, his voice came from very far away. "We're so sorry."
The warmth of his touch thawed her just enough to ask, "How bad?"
Then Nick spoke again, said only two words, chasing any residual heat away. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, and she closed her eyes at that, not able to look at the two of them anymore. "Brass called us on the way over… something about a woman and child that tried to run," Nick continued. "Near as we can tell he reached for his gun to save them… "
Always the hero she wanted to say, but she couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but concentrate on not falling down. When she opened her eyes again, Nick was still holding her hands, Warrick at her side, his hand on her back, and she was still cold, but able to nod her head. "I'll get my jacket," she said. She would have moved, were it not for Nick still holding tightly to her hands.
"Sara, you don't have to do that," he whispered.
She just looked at him, because she knew that he was wrong. "I want to do this Nick," she said. "I have to." She held his gaze, not wavering for a moment, and when he didn't budge, she looked down pointedly. "Can you let go of my hands please?"
He looked at Warrick, and she saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye, and Nick sighed, dropping her hands. "If we can do anything… " he began, and she knew just what to say to that.
"Drive."
If they thought it was a bad idea - and they patently did, she just didn't care - then they didn't say anything, and they drove in silence to the bank, the building that she'd passed so many times. Dimly, as if it had been another person's thoughts, she remembered thinking that it was the scene of someone else's nightmare, wondered how one person could be so wrong.
Though she knew it was futile, that Nick and Warrick wouldn't have shown up to her door unless they were sure, there was some small part of her that wanted to believe that a mistake had been made, that Cyrus would be standing there when the car pulled up, that she'd be able to berate him for making her worry like this. Then they'd go home, and he'd cook her food and they'd make love all night long, and she'd make Nick and Warrick grovel for a week before letting them know that they were forgiven.
Any thoughts she was harbouring in that direction were quashed the second she stepped out of the car, because it seemed as if conversation stopped among the various police officers gathered there as they saw her. In the distance, she could see David Phillips standing beside the coroner's van, see the stretcher beside him, see his face drain of colour as he looked at her, and she looked away quickly, looked at the door of the bank instead.
She could do this, she reminded herself. She had to do this.
She stayed standing there until Warrick and Nick materialised on either side of her. "You ready for this?" Warrick asked, and it took his question to galvanise her into action.
"Let's go," she said firmly, slipping on her professional façade like her lab coat, steeling herself underneath its protective mantel, leading the way into the bank. On her way, she gave vent to her thoughts, not sure if Warrick and Nick were listening to her, not really caring either way. She knew that it was important that she act as if things were normal, that that was the only chance she had of people treating her normally, but even she was surprised by how little her voice trembled when she spoke. "I heard officer down. I just never thought it would be him."
Warrick evidently heard her, said something about how he just wished they knew what he was doing there, how he was supposed to be off duty. Sara could have told him, could hear Cyrus's voice in the back of her head, something about him having stuff to take care of before he could come back to her place and keep her in the style to which he intended to make sure she became accustomed. She'd thought he meant shopping and suchlike. She hadn't known that he did his banking here … one of the many things, she realised numbly.
Behind Warrick, Nick said softly, "He was only thirty four years old." And I'm thirty-one, she thought. We should have had so much more time…
Trying to push the thoughts out of her mind, she walked over to where Grissom and Catherine were standing, waiting for Grissom to tell them what to do. Her attention though, was taken by the patch of floor slightly to Grissom's right, the pool of blood there.
Cyrus's blood.
It had only been a few days since she'd seen her own blood, smeared red on blue denim, but that had been nothing like this. That had been dried in, a small stain. This was a pool of crimson, vibrant with life, and she couldn't take her eyes off it.
She snapped back to reality when Grissom said her name, told her that she was working with him in the vault, and she was surprised, because she could hardly remember the last time she'd worked with him. Still though, she couldn't deny the fact that she was happy to not be working on the main floor of the bank, because much as she felt like she needed to do this, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle the sight of that pool of blood. Even the few seconds' sight of it had shaken her to her core, and she was grateful that it was Grissom she'd be working with, because he was the one person on night shift who she knew would leave her to her own devices, wouldn't hover over her, ask her how she was feeling.
That thought lasted until they were out of sight of the others, when they got to the base of the steps down into the vault. He stopped there, and she looked at him fleetingly, dropping her eyes when she saw the look of concern on his face. "Are you going to be ok?" he asked gently, and she nodded.
"Fine," she said tersely, moving away from him, towards the wall of the vault where most of the damage had been done. "Wow… look at that… "
"Sara-"
It was one word that had her freezing in her tracks, had her staring straight ahead, because there was no power on this earth that could get her to turn around and look at him. Not when he said her name like that.
"Grissom… "
It was one word, and it was all she could say, and she hoped that he understood that it was short for, "Please don't push me today, because if you do, I'm going to fall apart, and I don't know if I'll be able to put myself back together again."
The word fell into the silence between them, and she heard him sigh. "OK then. Let's begin."
They worked together like it was just another case, an ordinary day, though it was anything but, and she was relieved to know that she'd been right, that Grissom possessed the capability to switch everything off, to treat her like he'd always treated her. She never thought she'd be grateful for that, but she was beginning to learn that it was amazing what life could throw at you.
They worked together until Warrick came down the stairs, telling them that he was going back to the lab to look at the surveillance tapes, and Grissom stood, wiping dust off his hands. She could feel the dust under her own hands, remembered wiping it off her ID badge, and she had to focus hard on what it was he was saying. "-head back with Warrick," he was saying. "You'll be ok here?"
She nodded. "Sure," she said simply, and he began to move up the stairs, leaving her there with Warrick. She met his gaze, held it for a long moment, and he raised an eyebrow, staring her down.
"Yeah?" was all he said, and she couldn't help but smile at him, reassured by how like Grissom he was, and yet how different.
"Yeah," she said, and he tilted his head before he walked away too, leaving her alone, letting her get back to work.
She didn't look up until she heard more footsteps coming down the stairs, and she looked up to see Nick standing there. "Hey," he said. "How's it going?"
She looked around her, at the boxes scattered everywhere, piles of money dotted among them. "It's going," she said simply, rubbing an arm across her forehead.
"You're holding up ok?" Nick continued, and she gave him a look that had him holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You know I'm only asking-"
"I know Nick," she told him quietly, tilting her head back.
He sighed. "Yeah." Another sigh. "Look, we've been here a while… you want to take a break? Get some coffee, a bagel or something?"
She looked at him then, but not because she wanted coffee or something to eat. There was something else she wanted to do, somewhere else she wanted to be. "Will you take me somewhere Nick?"
He looked surprised, but he nodded, letting her lead the way up the stairs and into the open air. She didn't look over at the pool of blood on her way, but she could still see it.
***
Nick was fine with taking her where she wanted to go, until that is, she told him where they were going. He fought her every step of the way, though he still drove, and he sat in the car with her for a good five minutes trying to talk her out of it.
"You don't need to do this Sara," he said gently, not for the first time.
She looked at him steadily, but didn't answer him directly. "Are you coming or not?"
He sighed, pulling the key from the ignition. "Yeah," he said. "I'm coming."
They were at the door of the mortuary when they met Doc Robbins coming from the other direction, and the older man frowned when he saw them. "If you're here for the bullet, I just came from giving it to Grissom-" he said, but his voice trailed off midway through, perhaps as a result of her flinching at the word "bullet."
"That's not what we're here for Doc," Nick said, standing behind her, resting his hand for a second on her shoulder.
She saw the realisation dawn on Robbins's face, saw him glance quickly at Nick before looking back at her. "No," he said quickly, but gently.
"Doc-" she said, but he cut her off with a raised hand.
"This isn't a good idea Sara."
His voice echoed along the deserted corridor, and Sara crossed her arms over her chest defensively, squaring her shoulders as if for battle. Nick stood behind her, hovering, and she half wanted to tell him to take a step back. However, she still had the wherewithal to know that he was her ally in this, and that pissing him off mightn't be the best idea in the world. She knew too that he was worried about her, that he was standing behind her so that he could catch her if she fell apart; she knew it was pure concern that was motivating him. Just like she knew that it was concern for her, and not for protocol, that had Doc Robbins refusing her entry. The older man was looking at her in a decidedly paternal way, his kind face lined with sympathy, and she almost felt bad for disagreeing with him.
Almost.
"Please Doc… " she said, her voice a whisper, pleading. "I know you're not supposed to… "
"It's not that Sara," he replied, shaking his head. "But you can't say goodbye like that. Not properly."
She sucked in a deep breath at his heartfelt words, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. "I need to see him," she said. "Just for a minute."
"C'mon Doc." Doc Robbins looked at Nick over her shoulder, but she didn't look around, keeping her eyes on Robbins's face, waiting for the first chink in his armour. "She needs to do this."
It might have been Nick's calming presence that convinced him, though how Nick was holding it together Sara really didn't know. Whatever it was though, Doc Robbins looked from one to the other before looking back at Sara. "I'm not happy about this," he said, his last act of defiance, but the effect was somewhat lessened as he stepped towards the door when he spoke. "Just give me a second."
"We won't tell anyone," Nick promised as Doc Robbins pushed open the door, and Sara could hear the grin in his voice. She knew she should be pleased to have got her way, but now that the time had come, she was having trouble getting her legs to move in the direction of the door. "Sara?" Nick asked after a second. "You ok?"
She nodded dumbly at him as he came around to face her, and she leaned against the wall for support until Doc Robbins came back out again. "You can go in now," he told her. "I'll give you some time alone." She nodded, knowing that he was flouting several rules of protocol, that he was doing this for no other reason that he'd known Cyrus and knew her, but she still couldn't make her legs move, until he reached out a hand and touched her shoulder gently for just a second. "We'll be right here," he told her.
She nodded again, just about managing to murmur a thank you before her brain remembered how to send messages to her legs, and feeling as if she was moving through quicksand, she pushed the door to the morgue open and walked through it.
He was the first thing that she saw, and she stopped walking, because even it looked like him, it wasn't, not really. This wasn't the Cyrus that she'd talked with, laughed with, made love with. It was his body, but everything that made him Cyrus was gone, and standing there, the cold silence of the morgue all around her, she understood that for the first time. This wasn't a bad dream, wasn't someone's unfunny idea of a joke.
He was gone, and he wasn't coming back.
She knew that she shouldn't be reacting like this. She'd seen more than her share of dead bodies; she'd even seen the bodies of people that she knew, people that she'd cared for. It had never affected her like this before. She'd never felt so disconnected from her body, as if she was watching this happen to someone else, as if it was a bad dream that she was going to wake up from at any moment.
The only other time she remembered feeling like this was quite recently, right after the lab explosion. He'd been the one to take her in his arms and take her home. He'd been the one who'd held her, who'd made love to her, who'd told her by his actions, if not his words, that everything was going to be all right. That she was alive, that she was safe. He'd been the one who'd brought her back to reality, back to herself, and he'd done with twice, once in the immediate aftermath, and then again when the case had been all wrapped up. She hadn't asked him to, he'd just been there, done it, because there was no place else he would think of being. He'd been the one who'd told her that she was going to be all right, he'd made her believe that she'd come out on the other end of this.
There was no-one here to do that now.
Forcing herself to take a couple of steps closer, she looked down at him. His head and the tops of his shoulders was all that she could see, the sheet covering the rest of his body, including the bullet wound that had taken his life. She was glad of that, because she knew that she didn't want to see that, didn't need to see that. She just wanted to see him.
She was used to seeing dead bodies, but she'd never really come to terms with how death could change someone's features, make them almost unrecognisable. It hadn't happened with him though; she could see that now. He looked just as he had earlier on that day when she'd been dozing in her bed as he dressed, when he'd sat down beside her and kissed her and she'd tried to convince him not to leave. Standing beside him now, she almost expected him to open one lazy eye and wink up at her, as if she really was living in a nightmare and would wake at any second.
But she knew he wouldn't. He was never going to cook dinner with her, never dance with her in the living room, never listen to her with those serious eyes of his before making her burst out laughing over nothing at all.
Stepping closer to him, she was able to reach out, run a finger along his cheek. She almost recoiled then, because he was cold, and he'd never been that cold, any time that he touched her. He'd always radiated heat, light, strength - life. It had been one of the things she loved about him, and its absence now made her heart ache, as did the stillness of his features.
Reaching underneath the sheet, she found his hand, lifting it up, wrapping it in both of hers, bringing it to her chest. "They told me what you did." She didn't mean to talk to him, but the words were coming out anyway, and she didn't try to stop them. Even if she knew he couldn't hear her, there was enough lapsed Catholic theology still left in her to make her think that his soul had to be somewhere, even if she couldn't feel him. "Typical you, playing the hero… you did that for me too didn't you?" He'd walked her away from a bomb scene, but even before that she could remember times when she'd been drowning, after Melissa, after the Eddie Willows case, that he'd been there for her, taking care of her without her even realising it. She hadn't been surprised when Nick had told her what had happened, what had made Cyrus draw his gun. "Saving a mother and child?" she continued. "I'm not surprised you did it. Though I am a little pissed off at you right now. You're the one who reamed me out last week about being careful… " The honesty surprised her, and she felt the prickle of tears just behind her eyes, because the words, while true, didn't tell the full story. "And I'm so proud of you… I just wish you could hear me tell you that." Swallowing hard, she brought his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. "I wish a lot of things were different… " she whispered. "That I'd gone with you… that we hadn't wasted so much time… that you could tell me everything's going to be all right." She ran out of words then, and she pressed his hand closer to her chest just looking at him, her eyes dry as her throat, her heart pounding.
She stood there for a long time, but nowhere near long enough.
"I should go," she whispered finally, laying his hand back down at his side, covering it with the blanket. "Nick's waiting outside, and Doc Robbins… I think they're worried about me." Against all odds, a smile lit up her face. "I think I'm going to have a job getting rid of Nick; he hasn't let me out of his sight since… " A flash of pain seared through her body as she remembered the words Nick had spoken to her, the pain in his eyes, the scene of the crime, the blood on the floor. "This isn't fair," she said impulsively, her eyes filling with sudden tears. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"Sara?" Doc Robbins's quiet voice from behind her made her jump, but she didn't turn around. "I'm sorry, but-"
She nodded. "I'm coming now." Her hand reached out almost of its own accord, tracing a path down his cheek one last time, then she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Goodbye," she whispered, straightening up then, turning on her heels and walking away without looking back. She nodded at Doc Robbins, acknowledging his sympathetic gaze, pushing her way through the double doors, stopping only when she met Nick's worried brown eyes. He was leaning against the wall directly opposite the doors, obviously waiting for her, and he straightened up instantly when he saw her.
"Are you ok?" he asked, and she nodded firmly.
"I've got to get back to the vault," was all she said, and for a second, it looked as if he was going to argue with her, insist that she go home. Mentally, she steeled herself for the fight that she was sure was to follow, and was surprised when Nick's jaw clamped shut, and he nodded once.
"You gonna be ok getting back?" he asked, and she nodded again, because her first answer had taken up all her vocal abilities, and she couldn't find any other words in her. Perhaps Nick sensed that, because he followed up with "You need anything, you'll call right?"
With another nod, she was gone, back to the scene of the crime.
***
Once in the bank vault, she worked as hard as she ever had in her life, putting back together the vault wall box by box, pausing every so often when the weight of the boxes got too much for her tired arms and collecting the other evidence from the vault, piles of money and suchlike, arranging it into neat little piles along the far wall. She didn't stop working until the last of the boxes was in place, but by then it was evident to her what had happened, what the robbers had been looking for. She told as much to Catherine and Grissom when they came down, trying not to look at either of them, not wanting to know what she might see in their faces, but she heard the concern just under the surface in Catherine's voice when she mentioned that the vault was almost as good as new.
She outlined exactly what had happened to them, then let them talk, let them decide that they were going to go upstairs to talk to the bank manager. That much done, Grissom turned to her, his face a question, and she leapt in to tell him what she was going to do next. "I'm going to go back to the lab… see if Warrick or Nick need any help."
Her voice, she thought, left no room for argument, but Catherine and Grissom still exchanged worried looks, Catherine drawing the short straw. "You sure that's a good idea Sara?"
Sara was nodding, even as Grissom was saying, "You know you don't-"
"Guys!" Sara held up both her hands with the outburst, as if to ward off anything further that they might say, and it was only when she saw their surprised faces that she realised that she might have gotten more than a little strident there. Pausing a moment, speaking again only when she could control her emotions, doing so with great effort, she finally said, "I'm fine." They didn't look like they believed her, but frankly, she didn't care. "I'll see you back there."
Before they could say anything, react in any way, she was gone, up the stairs and out into the open air, once again looking neither left nor right. She barely paused long enough to fasten her seatbelt and she drove hell for leather all the way back to the lab. Once she got there though, walked through those doors, she couldn't help but remember the previous week, when she'd been walking through the halls like it was a normal day and the world as she knew it suddenly blew up around her. That brought back obvious memories of him rescuing her, and all of a sudden she was so tired she could hardly think straight.
Bone weary, but unwilling to go home, she made her way to the break room, in search of the Holy Grail. She found it too, as evidenced by the presence of Greg Sanders sitting at the table, mug of coffee in one hand, a doughnut in the other. From clear across the room, she could see that the coffeepot was brim full, and she only wanted to be sure of one thing. "Tell me that's the good stuff?" It was a redundant question if ever she'd heard one, between Greg's presence and the aroma, it couldn't be anything else.
Greg didn't look up at first, just snorted in derision. "Would I give you anything else?" Then she saw him pause and look up at her with wide eyes. "Sara! You're here."
She bit back a sigh, not looking at him, not sure if she could face this conversation without a stiff cup of coffee. "Pretty obvious," she said mildly, trying to make a joke of it. "I thought you had twenty-twenty vision."
For once though, Greg wasn't going to let her away with a joke. "No, I mean you're here here." She lifted an eyebrow at his words, and he continued, flustered, "I mean... shouldn't you be at home?
She gave him a pointed look. "Look who's talking. Didn't you just get out of the hospital like, five minutes ago?"
"Yeah well ... " He shrugged his shoulders, shifting uncomfortably. "I was at home, and didn't enjoy it much. My place seems either too big or too small... and every time I close my eyes, I'm seeing the rain of fire...it's like having this season's Angel on constant technicolour replay." He took a sip of his coffee. "At least here, I can keep busy… stop myself thinking." She frowned, not having known that things were that bad for him, and when he saw the look on her face, he gave her what was meant to be a reassuring smile that she saw through in a second.
She gave him a small, sad smile. "I know the feeling," she murmured, the most honest she'd been with anyone all day.
Greg looked at her hard, then down at the table. "You're probably sick of people asking… " he began, before looking up at her to finish the question. "But how are you?"
She sighed, because she wasn't sure she knew. She settled for giving hope instead of fact with, "I'll be ok," and he nodded.
"If there's anything I can do… "
There was a fragility in his voice that she'd never heard there before, a worry in his eyes that was so at odds with the flirty glint that he normally approached her with, and her heart broke for him, for them both, because in the space of a week, their whole lives had changed and they were never going to be the same again. The thought sent a lump up her throat, had tears prickling behind her eyes and she battled them down. "I know," she whispered, turning away from him, bracing both hands on the counter and dropping her head, reciting the elements of the periodic table, complete with chemical symbols, to calm herself.
It worked until she felt his presence beside her, felt his arm go ever so lightly around her shoulders. From somewhere the thought came to her that there had been probably any number of times that he'd have liked to do that in the last three years, and look what it had taken to give him his chance. She found herself fighting back a hysterical sob, fought it back quite successfully, though it was hard won when he cleared his throat and said so softly that she could barely hear him, "You know I love you right?"
A stifled sob escaped her lips but no tears fell from her eyes as she looked across at him, nodding. She couldn't speak, so she settled for mouthing the words, "Me too," before dropping her head again, and he squeezed her shoulder once more before dropping his hand.
They both jumped at a knock on the door, and Greg turned, stepping so that he was standing between Sara and the door, blocking her from the view of whoever was standing there. "Ah, the lovely Lea," he said, and Sara had never been more grateful to him. "How may I help you?"
"Actually… " Lea drew the word out, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. "I'm here for Sara. There's someone at reception for you."
Sara tilted her head back to the ceiling, on one hand hardly able to believe it, but on the other not the least bit surprised that someone would call for her when she was right in the middle of falling apart. Straightening her shoulders, she rubbed her hands underneath her eyes in one sweeping gesture, making sure any evidence of upset was gone before she turned around. "You know who it is?" she asked Lea, and the other woman shook her head, her eyes looking darker than they normally did, her face strained.
"I didn't get a name," she admitted. "I heard her ask for you, I told her that I'd see if you were around… "
Sara nodded. "It's fine," she said, fortifying herself with a sip of coffee. "I'll be right there."
She expected Lea to leave at once, but to her surprise the lab tech waited for her, even going so far as to take a couple of steps down the corridor with her. Sara kept her eyes on the hall ahead of her, but she wasn't surprised when Lea reached out, stalling her by placing a hand on her arm. "Look, Sara," was all she said before her voice trailed off, leaving her biting her lip. She shook her head as Sara looked at her, and it was obvious what she wanted to say, but she just couldn't find the words, so she shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
Sara didn't know where the knowledge of what to do came from, but she reached out, covering the other woman's hand with hers, not even trying to dislodge it from her arm. She held it there like that for a moment before she let her hand fall, whispering, "Thanks," as she did, and Lea nodded, tears standing in her eyes. She gave Sara's arm one last brief squeeze before she turned away, moving quickly in the other direction, and Sara watched her go for a long moment before shaking herself and continuing on her way.
Once she got to reception, she realised that she'd never even asked Lea anything about the person who was looking for her, but the receptionist, a bottle blonde with bright red lipstick and sympathetic eyes, pointed her out. The woman must have been keeping an ear out, because even as the receptionist was pointing her out to Sara, she was coming over, a curious look on her face. She looked to be about the same age as Sara, dark skinned, with long black hair that fell straight down to her waist. She was wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt, a simple black jacket over them, and she looked vaguely familiar to Sara, though she couldn't recall ever having met her before.
Then she came closer, was standing right in front of Sara, and she saw the eyes and she knew.
"You're Sara Sidle?" she asked, her voice shaking, and red-rimmed as they were, all Sara could see was the heartache in her eyes.
She nodded, her own heart beating fast. "You're his sister," she said, and the other woman nodded.
"Kim," she said, holding out her hand for Sara to shake. "I hope you don't mind me coming here, but Captain Brass told me that I'd probably find you here… "
"It's fine," Sara said quickly.
Kim swallowed hard, nodding her head. "I just… I wanted to meet you… " Tears flooded her eyes, one escaping and making a shiny path down her cheek, and Sara was acutely aware of the foot traffic through the reception area, of the faces looking at them curiously.
"You want to come back?" she asked, jerking a thumb in the direction she'd just come. "Get some coffee?"
Through her tears, Kim smiled, and she looked so like her brother that Sara had to look away. "I'd like that," she said.
The break room was mercifully deserted, Greg evidently having gone back to work, but he'd left the coffeepot filled, and Sara poured out two generous cups. "I hope it's ok," she said, leaving Kim to put in her own sugar and sweetener, and somehow she wasn't surprised when the other woman blew on it before sipping it just as it was.
"It's fine," she said. "I probably shouldn't have come here," she said then. "I mean, I know you're working… "
Sara's eyes widened as she wondered what this woman must be thinking of her. After all, her boyfriend, Kim's brother, had just died horribly and she was working away as if nothing had happened. "The bank case… " she said, knowing that Kim would read between the lines. "I'm on it… I needed to… "
"Oh, I'm not saying anything!" Kim interrupted her hastily, looking stricken. "If you can do anything to help get-" Her voice broke suddenly and she looked down.
"We are going to find them," Sara said quietly, her words filled with a conviction she didn't even realise she felt.
When she looked up again, there was a gleam in Kim's eye, one that had nothing to do with tears. "You sounded so like him there." It was undoubtedly a compliment, and Sara felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "We talked… he told me about you, you know."
Sara looked at her curiously. "I didn't think… I mean, we were only dating for a couple of weeks… "
Kim laughed softly, sadly. "I talked to him a few hours before… " she said, her voice trailing off. "I had left a message on his machine, pointing out that he hadn't called me in a few days, and that Dad had told me something about you… " Sara must have looked surprised, because Kim hastily added, "I don't think Dad knew too much. He told me so that I'd ring Cyrus and get all the news from him. Which, I did. " She grinned suddenly, and Sara didn't know until that moment that it was possible for a sight to break your heart and yet be unable to look away from it. "I could hear the smile on his face all the way down the other end of the phone line."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. I haven't heard him sound like that in a long time." Kim took a thoughtful sip of her coffee, staring off into the distance for a moment. "He told me that you're a CSI, that you met through work… some other stuff." It sounded like they were brother and sister secrets that Sara wouldn't be privy to, so she didn't ask, letting Kim talk. "Put it this way, I heard enough to demand an introduction." Sara's heart lurched unpleasantly, and Kim's lips pursed bitterly. "He said that he'd talk to you about it … I wanted the two of you to come over for dinner… "
"I would have liked that," Sara whispered, each word forced out through a throat full of tears.
"He told me he was off-duty… that he had some stuff to do and then the two of you had plans… "
"He was going to cook me dinner."
Kim chuckled. "He said that… I told him that it must be love." Sara looked down at the table at the words, and Kim reached across, laying a hand on her arm, just as Lea had done earlier on. "He said that he might get you to come over to the house later on, so that we could meet… he thought that we'd get on well."
Taking a deep breath, Sara managed to summon up a smile. "I think he would have been right."
Kim returned the smile, hers looking as shaky as Sara's felt. "You're sure you've got a few minutes?" she asked, glancing up at the clock on the wall, then at the windows of the break room, the flurries of activity outside. "It's just… my dad and my sister and her family aren't getting in for a while… and I'd kind of like to be with someone… "
Her hand was still on Sara's arm; now Sara's hand closed over it, squeezing it gently. "Tell me about him," she asked, and they sat there for a long time, Kim talking, Sara listening, both remembering.