TITLE: Impetus
AUTHOR: Anansay
SUMMARY: Sara insists on working over time. Grissom doesn't agree, until…
SPOILERS: None.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own them. Just borrowing them.
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Impetus
By Anansay
December 5, 2003
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The urge filled her up like something thick and powerful.
Time wasn't going fast enough. Each second ticked by with lengthy disparity. She needed to do this. It was in her blood. She felt it coursing through her veins, feeding her and giving her strength. Even after pulling a double, it was still there, still pounding away, still pushing her.
And it wouldn't be ignored.
A small sound crept into the silence, slicing it with it thin sliver of noise. Sara's body tensed as she waited for the onslaught, the verbal attack she knew had been brewing for a while, ever since she'd told him to mind his own business and let her do her job.
"Back off, Grissom!" she told him, her voice cold and calm. Her eyes dug into his, affirming her stance.
Grissom glared at her, surprise etched on his face at her sudden anger bubbling just beneath the surface. He'd wanted to talk to her as a supervisor and get her to back off, or at least go home.
"No. I'm staying here," she said.
"You need to go home, Sara. You need to rest. You've been up for over twenty hours. Your body can't handle that--"
"My body can handle it just fine, Grissom. It's just doing that for a long time," she countered.
"Not this time. I want you to go home. Now."
"No."
"Yes."
"Grissom, in ten minutes Brass is bringing in the suspect to be interrogated. I'm going to be there." And she turned around and left the room, not even bothering to hear any retort from him.
Now she stood with her eyes peeled to the window, staring at the empty room beyond, at the chair that would soon be occupied by Mr. Jorge. Bile rose in her throat at the prospect of being in the same room with him, but she held firm. Miranda needed her to do this. For Miranda.
"Sara," came his soft voice. Soft but loud in the small dark room.
No lights were used in this anteroom to the interrogation room; it would ruin the effect of the double-sided mirror. She heard him step into the room and come to stand beside her. His heat swept over her body, seeping in and melting her resolve to stay neutral to his presence. She didn't move. She didn't allow herself to move; it would be insincere. She had no intention of resuming their conversation. No matter that her insides were quivering with his nearness, she remained firm in her footing.
"Don't start Grissom. It won't do any good. My mind is made up. I can't stop now. Not now." Her voice had dropped to a whisper as the weight of the case suddenly bore down on her and she suddenly felt the near collapse that had been threatening for the past three hours. Her bottom lip trembled with barely suppressed emotion that had been nagging at the edges of her conscious since the beginning, since she'd seen her torn and battered body laying broken on the living room floor, hand outstretched in one last plea for help.
Sara had stood over Miranda's body, fighting the revulsion at such a sorry sight. The human body could withstand much, but it had a breaking point. When that point was reached, the sight was never pretty, ever. With eyes open in horror and mouth gaping in a silent scream, Miranda's body spoke to them, telling them of her last minutes of life, of struggling to get free. She had struggled until the last moment, until the last breath finally left her body and it lie still, forevermore.
"I know, Sara. I know," said Grissom, not moving. He'd been there. He'd seen Sara's motionless stare, her hands clenching into fists, her body quaking with barely restrained rage.
A deep sigh escaped Sara's pursed lips. "It hurts so much, Grissom. It really hurts."
The softly whispered confession filled the room with words echoed in each of their hearts and souls. The pain ate away at what was left of their faith and hope. It gnawed with increasing severity at the shredded remains of their sanity. It was the evils of the world, the results of which were witnessed every night, blood black in the moonlight, screams echoing silently in the dead walls of a home rendered unsafe. It was the stuff of nightmares.
"We do what we can," he said.
"I'm doing all that I can, Grissom. And it's not enough."
A hand on her arm brought her back to the room, the dark empty room, empty except for the two of them. She glanced at him and caught his eye as he turned away. It was a small touch, a meeting of twin souls.
There were no more words to be uttered. None that could ease the pain. None that could take away the nightmares. He was there with her. She wasn't alone.
~*~
Copyright © 2003 Anansay