Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.
Chapter 3 - I've seen a dying eye
Grissom watched as Sara sank into the chair. He had recognized the pain in her voice and correctly guessed that she blamed herself for the little girl's injuries. He hoped O'Riley's emotional thanks would have convinced her of the folly of this, but that didn't seem to have happened. When it looked like she would gag on her coffee, he moved quickly to her side. Kneeling beside her, he placed a gentle hand on her back. "Sara?"
"God, Grissom, I didn't think! I could have killed her. She still might..."
"Stop it, Sara! You didn't do anything wrong," he said firmly. "Your accident scene wasn't safe. You had to clear the injured immediately." Seeing this wasn't calming her, he lowered his voice. "Hey. Sara, she's alive. If you had waited for the rescue squad, she would have died. You did good."
He stayed by her side as she fought to bring her breathing under control. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he accidently activated the singing bear he still held. Both jumped when an electronic voice belted out "You Are My Sunshine".
Sara was the first to let out an embarrassed laugh. "Thanks, Grissom," she said, getting up to throw the remainder of her coffee away. "Guess I should go clear out my e-mail before it crashes the server," she joked. Grissom noticed the humor didn't carry to her voice.
He escorted her to the A/V lab, his hand still resting on her back. He continued to his office, placing the plush nuisance on a top shelf where it would never be activated again. And people thought his singing bass was annoying. Why had Sara been insistent that he take the thing?
Stepping over to his desk, he pulled a card from his Rolodex. He would need to call Philip Kane in the morning. Grissom intended to take Mobley's instruction to watch Sara seriously. He just had no idea what he should be looking for. The scene in the break room had made him uneasy. Was that a normal reaction?
He stopped by the lab where she was scrolling through screens of text and silently observed her for a moment before continuing his trip to the morgue. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have noticed her wiping away tears.
Sara had found the obituaries of the eight children who she hadn't helped that morning.
~~~~~~
Despite a statement from Mobley and a press conference scheduled for that afternoon, many of the media refused to leave the night before. They knew Sara was inside and wanted to be the first to catch her image or a quote. As the sun rose, more and more reporters and gawkers started to gather outside the building.
"God, would you look at that," Catherine said to Grissom. "I swung by Sara's apartment building last night on the way back to the lab. You couldn't get near it. How are we going to get her out of here? She doesn't need this shit."
"Could she stay at your place? Until the press conference?"
"Sure, Gil. But we still have to get her out. She'll need to go home for a change of clothes, too. And no, I don't have anything she can borrow. She's too tall," Catherine said, thinking the problem through. "I could go to her apartment, but they'll probably follow me back to my place."
Suddenly Grissom smirked. "I'll take care of it. Find the guys and see if they want to take a road trip," he said as he punched a number into his cell phone. "David? Grissom. We need your help."
~~~~~~
Carrying a large sports bag, Catherine barreled through the throngs in the parking lot, refusing to answer any questions. Getting into her car, she saw the crowds move in the other direction as a group exited the front of the lab.
Grissom led the way, with Warrick and Nick on either side of the woman who was suddenly the focus of scores of cameras. Her lowered head was covered by a department-issued cap and sunglasses covered her eyes in an attempt to give her a thin shield of privacy. Two uniformed officers plowed ahead to clear a path to one of the Tahoes.
The crowd swarmed forward, screaming questions, jostling for better camera angles. Nick and Warrick wrapped protective arms around their friend, trying to isolate her from the jungle of outstretched arms, microphones and cameras.
Grissom tried to distract the media by promising Sara would answer questions that afternoon. Meanwhile, Nick and Warrick herded their charge into the back of the SUV, and cautiously exited the parking lot. A number of cars and vans with satellite dishes followed.
Once his employees were out of the parking lot, Grissom headed to his own Tahoe, ignoring the questions now directed his way. He pulled into traffic and drove down North Trop Blvd until he was certain no one had followed him.
Inside the first SUV, the woman started to remove her covering, but Nick stopped her. "Leave that on for a bit longer. Let's enjoy this."
"Okay, but turn on the air conditioner, Warrick. If I have to stay in this jacket, I'll melt before we get to Lake Mead."
"No problem, Leah," he flashed the lab tech a brief grin in the mirror. "Thanks for helping out."
He drove slowly towards the recreation area, while Nick questioned the lab tech about her latest tattoo. They wanted the hounds to follow them, but he didn't want to cause an accident. Not that he would mind if his friend was spared this assault on her privacy, but Sara didn't need any guilt from this. No, that was the last thing she needed.
He wondered if he should tell the others his concerns as he continued to drive slowly.
Meanwhile, Catherine made her way into Sara's apartment. An officer remained at the front entrance to keep non-residents out of the building. Moving quickly into the bedroom, Catherine gathered several changes of clothes before grabbing personal items from the bathroom. She spent a few minutes carefully sorting and packaging the items. As she left the building, a number of reporters followed her, only to be disappointed she went back to the crime lab.
Catherine reached into the bag sitting on the floor of the SUV and pulled out the second bag which had been inside of it. Shifting the contents to make it look full, she took it into the building, leaving it in her locker. When she left the second time it was without a media escort.
~~~~~~
Unnoticed by the horde, the coroner's van had exited the garage.
"Are you comfortable back there?"
"David, I hope that's not a question you ask often," Sara said.
"Oh, asking isn't a problem. It's when I get answers that I worry," he said. She laughed at the unexpected joke from the coroner's assistant.
A few minutes later they pulled into an alleyway off of the main strip and walked into a small diner. They quickly moved to the rear booth, Sara sitting with her back to the rest of the room. An uneasy silence settled over the table after they ordered coffee.
"When I was little, my dad was stationed at Dover," David said eventually. "It's not a big city, but during the summer a lot of beach traffic comes through town. One day, we were playing catch, and the ball went across the street. My friend, Tommy, ran out to get it. He never saw the car coming."
The waitress set their mugs on the table, giving Sara a quick smile. "On the house."
"Thanks," came out automatically.
"I saw the whole thing," David continued. "Tommy was okay, eventually. But it was rough, watching that. I had nightmares for a long time."
"How old were you?" Sara asked quietly.
"Seven, almost eight," he replied, watching Sara close her eyes. "Anyway, uhm, well, since then I've seen the results of a lot worse. But, it's not the same. I mean, seeing the aftermath and seeing the event. You can detach yourself when you're not involved. But being there, being a part of it, you can't separate it. That's normal. I, I'm not explaining this very well."
When Sara looked up at him, she gave him a small smile. "Actually, you did, David. I'm glad you understand. It's so weird. I," she paused, eventually giving her head a small shake. "I guess it's all just starting to catch up to me. There wasn't time to think about it while it was going on."
"I understand. Well, as much as someone who wasn't there can. Uhm, if you need to talk to someone, you know, if this bothers you," he stammered.
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. You're a good friend, David," she said, squeezing his hand. She smiled sweetly at the blush creeping up the shy man's face.
"Hope we're not interrupting anything," Catherine's voice teased as she slid in beside Sara. David's blush grew deeper when Grissom sat next to him, giving him a pointed stare. Sara gave her boss a stare in return as she withdrew her hand.
A small smile played on Grissom's face: Sara was in a better mood. He didn't know what David had done, but if it got Sara to smile he wouldn't browbeat the younger man. He even paid for the group's breakfast. Maybe he had read too much into Sara's earlier mood.
Maybe.
He had forgotten to call Philip. Well, a few hours couldn't make a difference.
As the friends split up, Grissom pulled Catherine to the side. "Give me a call if anything comes up," he whispered. Giving her friend a nod, she walked to the SUV where Sara waited. The ride to the house was quiet. The rouse had worked; no one had tracked Sara down.
"Thanks, Cath, I appreciate all this. I really didn't want to face that mob," she said as she sat on the couch.
"No, prob, kiddo. You know, you don't have to go this afternoon? If it bothers you that much."
"I know, but I just want this to be over. You guys were right. They'll go away once they get what they want," she said not trying to hide the venom in her voice. "I hate them."
Catherine gave Sara a quizzical look, but the younger woman didn't elaborate.
"Look, Sara, go take a nap. I'll get you up in time to get ready for the conference. I left your pajamas and some clothes for you to wear later in Lindsay's room," she pointed to a door in the hallway.
"Thanks, Cath."
The blonde watched as Sara paused at Lindsay's doorway. A sad smile crossed her face as she gently brushed her fingers over the artwork covering the door before entering the room.
~~~~~~
The flat-bed trailer was carrying building supplies and driving far above the speed limit. As it lost control, the load shifted and burst its restraining straps. Stacks of steel rebar crashed into the side of the bus. Tempered windshield shattered under the force of the multiple collisions, sending a rain of glass pellets into the interior. The metal bars tore through the thin, yellow skin of the bus, and continued inwards.
The impact briefly lifted the bus onto its side wheels, sending the children flying to the far wall. As the bus crashed back down, the children were tossed into the spray of glass and metal. Loose items had become projectiles. Book bags, lunch boxes, human bodies all were tossed among the shrapnel.
The interior of the bus resembled an explosion aftermath. Blood from arterial spray coated the walls, the seats, dripped from the ceiling. The floors alternated between sticky and slippery.
Flames were dancing in the engine compartment of the trailer. The distinctive smell of diesel competed with the metallic smell of blood. The bus would soon become an inferno. She knew she had to get out immediately.
Sara ran down the aisle, desperately trying to find other survivors, trying not to slip or trip on human remains. Reaching the end of the bus, she quickly pulled the children down. She took a last look inside the remains of the bus.
Soft brown eyes locked on hers. He reached out desperately.
"Help me," he cried. "Mommy!"
Chapter 4
Rating: R for subject matter
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.
Chapter 3 - I've seen a dying eye
Grissom watched as Sara sank into the chair. He had recognized the pain in her voice and correctly guessed that she blamed herself for the little girl's injuries. He hoped O'Riley's emotional thanks would have convinced her of the folly of this, but that didn't seem to have happened. When it looked like she would gag on her coffee, he moved quickly to her side. Kneeling beside her, he placed a gentle hand on her back. "Sara?"
"God, Grissom, I didn't think! I could have killed her. She still might..."
"Stop it, Sara! You didn't do anything wrong," he said firmly. "Your accident scene wasn't safe. You had to clear the injured immediately." Seeing this wasn't calming her, he lowered his voice. "Hey. Sara, she's alive. If you had waited for the rescue squad, she would have died. You did good."
He stayed by her side as she fought to bring her breathing under control. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he accidently activated the singing bear he still held. Both jumped when an electronic voice belted out "You Are My Sunshine".
Sara was the first to let out an embarrassed laugh. "Thanks, Grissom," she said, getting up to throw the remainder of her coffee away. "Guess I should go clear out my e-mail before it crashes the server," she joked. Grissom noticed the humor didn't carry to her voice.
He escorted her to the A/V lab, his hand still resting on her back. He continued to his office, placing the plush nuisance on a top shelf where it would never be activated again. And people thought his singing bass was annoying. Why had Sara been insistent that he take the thing?
Stepping over to his desk, he pulled a card from his Rolodex. He would need to call Philip Kane in the morning. Grissom intended to take Mobley's instruction to watch Sara seriously. He just had no idea what he should be looking for. The scene in the break room had made him uneasy. Was that a normal reaction?
He stopped by the lab where she was scrolling through screens of text and silently observed her for a moment before continuing his trip to the morgue. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have noticed her wiping away tears.
Sara had found the obituaries of the eight children who she hadn't helped that morning.
~~~~~~
Despite a statement from Mobley and a press conference scheduled for that afternoon, many of the media refused to leave the night before. They knew Sara was inside and wanted to be the first to catch her image or a quote. As the sun rose, more and more reporters and gawkers started to gather outside the building.
"God, would you look at that," Catherine said to Grissom. "I swung by Sara's apartment building last night on the way back to the lab. You couldn't get near it. How are we going to get her out of here? She doesn't need this shit."
"Could she stay at your place? Until the press conference?"
"Sure, Gil. But we still have to get her out. She'll need to go home for a change of clothes, too. And no, I don't have anything she can borrow. She's too tall," Catherine said, thinking the problem through. "I could go to her apartment, but they'll probably follow me back to my place."
Suddenly Grissom smirked. "I'll take care of it. Find the guys and see if they want to take a road trip," he said as he punched a number into his cell phone. "David? Grissom. We need your help."
~~~~~~
Carrying a large sports bag, Catherine barreled through the throngs in the parking lot, refusing to answer any questions. Getting into her car, she saw the crowds move in the other direction as a group exited the front of the lab.
Grissom led the way, with Warrick and Nick on either side of the woman who was suddenly the focus of scores of cameras. Her lowered head was covered by a department-issued cap and sunglasses covered her eyes in an attempt to give her a thin shield of privacy. Two uniformed officers plowed ahead to clear a path to one of the Tahoes.
The crowd swarmed forward, screaming questions, jostling for better camera angles. Nick and Warrick wrapped protective arms around their friend, trying to isolate her from the jungle of outstretched arms, microphones and cameras.
Grissom tried to distract the media by promising Sara would answer questions that afternoon. Meanwhile, Nick and Warrick herded their charge into the back of the SUV, and cautiously exited the parking lot. A number of cars and vans with satellite dishes followed.
Once his employees were out of the parking lot, Grissom headed to his own Tahoe, ignoring the questions now directed his way. He pulled into traffic and drove down North Trop Blvd until he was certain no one had followed him.
Inside the first SUV, the woman started to remove her covering, but Nick stopped her. "Leave that on for a bit longer. Let's enjoy this."
"Okay, but turn on the air conditioner, Warrick. If I have to stay in this jacket, I'll melt before we get to Lake Mead."
"No problem, Leah," he flashed the lab tech a brief grin in the mirror. "Thanks for helping out."
He drove slowly towards the recreation area, while Nick questioned the lab tech about her latest tattoo. They wanted the hounds to follow them, but he didn't want to cause an accident. Not that he would mind if his friend was spared this assault on her privacy, but Sara didn't need any guilt from this. No, that was the last thing she needed.
He wondered if he should tell the others his concerns as he continued to drive slowly.
Meanwhile, Catherine made her way into Sara's apartment. An officer remained at the front entrance to keep non-residents out of the building. Moving quickly into the bedroom, Catherine gathered several changes of clothes before grabbing personal items from the bathroom. She spent a few minutes carefully sorting and packaging the items. As she left the building, a number of reporters followed her, only to be disappointed she went back to the crime lab.
Catherine reached into the bag sitting on the floor of the SUV and pulled out the second bag which had been inside of it. Shifting the contents to make it look full, she took it into the building, leaving it in her locker. When she left the second time it was without a media escort.
~~~~~~
Unnoticed by the horde, the coroner's van had exited the garage.
"Are you comfortable back there?"
"David, I hope that's not a question you ask often," Sara said.
"Oh, asking isn't a problem. It's when I get answers that I worry," he said. She laughed at the unexpected joke from the coroner's assistant.
A few minutes later they pulled into an alleyway off of the main strip and walked into a small diner. They quickly moved to the rear booth, Sara sitting with her back to the rest of the room. An uneasy silence settled over the table after they ordered coffee.
"When I was little, my dad was stationed at Dover," David said eventually. "It's not a big city, but during the summer a lot of beach traffic comes through town. One day, we were playing catch, and the ball went across the street. My friend, Tommy, ran out to get it. He never saw the car coming."
The waitress set their mugs on the table, giving Sara a quick smile. "On the house."
"Thanks," came out automatically.
"I saw the whole thing," David continued. "Tommy was okay, eventually. But it was rough, watching that. I had nightmares for a long time."
"How old were you?" Sara asked quietly.
"Seven, almost eight," he replied, watching Sara close her eyes. "Anyway, uhm, well, since then I've seen the results of a lot worse. But, it's not the same. I mean, seeing the aftermath and seeing the event. You can detach yourself when you're not involved. But being there, being a part of it, you can't separate it. That's normal. I, I'm not explaining this very well."
When Sara looked up at him, she gave him a small smile. "Actually, you did, David. I'm glad you understand. It's so weird. I," she paused, eventually giving her head a small shake. "I guess it's all just starting to catch up to me. There wasn't time to think about it while it was going on."
"I understand. Well, as much as someone who wasn't there can. Uhm, if you need to talk to someone, you know, if this bothers you," he stammered.
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. You're a good friend, David," she said, squeezing his hand. She smiled sweetly at the blush creeping up the shy man's face.
"Hope we're not interrupting anything," Catherine's voice teased as she slid in beside Sara. David's blush grew deeper when Grissom sat next to him, giving him a pointed stare. Sara gave her boss a stare in return as she withdrew her hand.
A small smile played on Grissom's face: Sara was in a better mood. He didn't know what David had done, but if it got Sara to smile he wouldn't browbeat the younger man. He even paid for the group's breakfast. Maybe he had read too much into Sara's earlier mood.
Maybe.
He had forgotten to call Philip. Well, a few hours couldn't make a difference.
As the friends split up, Grissom pulled Catherine to the side. "Give me a call if anything comes up," he whispered. Giving her friend a nod, she walked to the SUV where Sara waited. The ride to the house was quiet. The rouse had worked; no one had tracked Sara down.
"Thanks, Cath, I appreciate all this. I really didn't want to face that mob," she said as she sat on the couch.
"No, prob, kiddo. You know, you don't have to go this afternoon? If it bothers you that much."
"I know, but I just want this to be over. You guys were right. They'll go away once they get what they want," she said not trying to hide the venom in her voice. "I hate them."
Catherine gave Sara a quizzical look, but the younger woman didn't elaborate.
"Look, Sara, go take a nap. I'll get you up in time to get ready for the conference. I left your pajamas and some clothes for you to wear later in Lindsay's room," she pointed to a door in the hallway.
"Thanks, Cath."
The blonde watched as Sara paused at Lindsay's doorway. A sad smile crossed her face as she gently brushed her fingers over the artwork covering the door before entering the room.
~~~~~~
The flat-bed trailer was carrying building supplies and driving far above the speed limit. As it lost control, the load shifted and burst its restraining straps. Stacks of steel rebar crashed into the side of the bus. Tempered windshield shattered under the force of the multiple collisions, sending a rain of glass pellets into the interior. The metal bars tore through the thin, yellow skin of the bus, and continued inwards.
The impact briefly lifted the bus onto its side wheels, sending the children flying to the far wall. As the bus crashed back down, the children were tossed into the spray of glass and metal. Loose items had become projectiles. Book bags, lunch boxes, human bodies all were tossed among the shrapnel.
The interior of the bus resembled an explosion aftermath. Blood from arterial spray coated the walls, the seats, dripped from the ceiling. The floors alternated between sticky and slippery.
Flames were dancing in the engine compartment of the trailer. The distinctive smell of diesel competed with the metallic smell of blood. The bus would soon become an inferno. She knew she had to get out immediately.
Sara ran down the aisle, desperately trying to find other survivors, trying not to slip or trip on human remains. Reaching the end of the bus, she quickly pulled the children down. She took a last look inside the remains of the bus.
Soft brown eyes locked on hers. He reached out desperately.
"Help me," he cried. "Mommy!"
Chapter 4