Grissom returned to his office to find it empty. He looked over at
the fish board and was relieved to see the Shannon file pinned up. But then
he noticed a small, circular discoloration on the file folder. As soon as
he realized that it was wet, he saw someone rushing past his office in the
corner of his eye. Walking to the door to see who it was, and possibly to
tell them to slow down a bit, he was still trying to figure out what the
wet spot on the folder was from. It clicked as soon as he recognized the
person running down the hall. Sara had gone to the locker room, grabbed her
jacket and bag, and was out the door before anyone could stop her.
'Damn,' Grissom thought, 'I need to catch her before she leaves.' He grabbed his coat off of the back of his chair, and threw some papers into his briefcase. He managed to shut the lights of his office off at the same time as shutting the door, without slamming his arm in the closing door. He walked quickly out to the parking lot, hoping that he didn't miss her.
Sara reached her car, and bent over trying to catch her breath for a few moments. She had run to the car so no one would see her crying, and she had made it, barely. As soon as she had unlocked her car, sat behind the wheel, and put the key in the ignition, tears started streaming down her face, and within a few moments she was sobbing uncontrollably. But they weren't really tears of sadness. They were caused by anger, anger for the things that people did to each other, anger for the man who had brutally raped and killed Kerrigan Shannon, anger for not being able to solve the case.
Grissom squinted against the bright Nevada sun, and glanced around the parking lot. When he noticed her familiar car still sitting in its usual spot, he sighed with relief and began to walk towards it. It was then that he noticed that she was hunched over, holding her hands to her face. In the past, he probably would have just let her cry, and she would have been fine the next night at work. However, when he saw her hit the steering wheel, he realized he had never, ever in his life seen Sara break down so bad. He knew he had to do something about it, so he kept walking towards her car.
"Dammit!" Sara slammed her right palm into the steering wheel, needing to force the anger out of her body. Unfortunately, she hurt her hand more than she did the steering wheel, and once the pain registered in her mind, the sobs began to subside, and she started rubbing her palm. Tears were still streaming down her face, when she heard a tapping on her window. Looking up, she saw Grissom staring back at her with a worried look on his face. Wiping her face with the back of her right hand, she rolled down the window with her left hand. She gave him a small, fleeting smile.
"Sara, are you okay?" Grissom asked, and Sara could tell that he was really worried.
"Uh, yeah. I'm fine Grissom. I just got a little upset." She went back to rubbing her hand, a small grimace formed on her face.
"What's wrong with your hand?" He reached in the car window, grabbed her hand, and began looking it over for any injuries.
"Nothing, I just slammed it into the steering wheel. It's fine. I really need to get going." She went to pull her hand away from him, but he wouldn't let go. Looking up from her hand, his eyes locked with hers, where tears were still forming.
"There's going to be a bruise," he stated with no emotion in his voice.
"Yeah, well I can handle that. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
"Sara, get out of the car."
"Why?" Sara was confused. Not even thirty minutes ago was he telling her to go home, and now he wanted her to stay.
"Because I can't let you drive home like this. You're not going to be able to concentrate on the road. Let me take you home."
"Grissom, I'll be fine, just."
"Please Sara," he pleaded. "Please, just humor me and let me drive you home."
Sara noticed for the first time since he knocked on her window that he was actually reaching out to her. She realized he was right, she shouldn't be driving. 'What the hell was I thinking?' she thought to herself as she reached for the door handle and climbed out of her car.
Grissom sighed a sigh of relief as he silently guided her to his car on the other side of the parking lot.
'Damn,' Grissom thought, 'I need to catch her before she leaves.' He grabbed his coat off of the back of his chair, and threw some papers into his briefcase. He managed to shut the lights of his office off at the same time as shutting the door, without slamming his arm in the closing door. He walked quickly out to the parking lot, hoping that he didn't miss her.
Sara reached her car, and bent over trying to catch her breath for a few moments. She had run to the car so no one would see her crying, and she had made it, barely. As soon as she had unlocked her car, sat behind the wheel, and put the key in the ignition, tears started streaming down her face, and within a few moments she was sobbing uncontrollably. But they weren't really tears of sadness. They were caused by anger, anger for the things that people did to each other, anger for the man who had brutally raped and killed Kerrigan Shannon, anger for not being able to solve the case.
Grissom squinted against the bright Nevada sun, and glanced around the parking lot. When he noticed her familiar car still sitting in its usual spot, he sighed with relief and began to walk towards it. It was then that he noticed that she was hunched over, holding her hands to her face. In the past, he probably would have just let her cry, and she would have been fine the next night at work. However, when he saw her hit the steering wheel, he realized he had never, ever in his life seen Sara break down so bad. He knew he had to do something about it, so he kept walking towards her car.
"Dammit!" Sara slammed her right palm into the steering wheel, needing to force the anger out of her body. Unfortunately, she hurt her hand more than she did the steering wheel, and once the pain registered in her mind, the sobs began to subside, and she started rubbing her palm. Tears were still streaming down her face, when she heard a tapping on her window. Looking up, she saw Grissom staring back at her with a worried look on his face. Wiping her face with the back of her right hand, she rolled down the window with her left hand. She gave him a small, fleeting smile.
"Sara, are you okay?" Grissom asked, and Sara could tell that he was really worried.
"Uh, yeah. I'm fine Grissom. I just got a little upset." She went back to rubbing her hand, a small grimace formed on her face.
"What's wrong with your hand?" He reached in the car window, grabbed her hand, and began looking it over for any injuries.
"Nothing, I just slammed it into the steering wheel. It's fine. I really need to get going." She went to pull her hand away from him, but he wouldn't let go. Looking up from her hand, his eyes locked with hers, where tears were still forming.
"There's going to be a bruise," he stated with no emotion in his voice.
"Yeah, well I can handle that. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
"Sara, get out of the car."
"Why?" Sara was confused. Not even thirty minutes ago was he telling her to go home, and now he wanted her to stay.
"Because I can't let you drive home like this. You're not going to be able to concentrate on the road. Let me take you home."
"Grissom, I'll be fine, just."
"Please Sara," he pleaded. "Please, just humor me and let me drive you home."
Sara noticed for the first time since he knocked on her window that he was actually reaching out to her. She realized he was right, she shouldn't be driving. 'What the hell was I thinking?' she thought to herself as she reached for the door handle and climbed out of her car.
Grissom sighed a sigh of relief as he silently guided her to his car on the other side of the parking lot.