Sara stepped into the DNA lab the next day. Greg was sitting as his chair, bobbing his head to music from his headphones. Sara sighed and shook her head. Better hope Grissom doesn't come in here, she thought to herself, knowing how Grissom would be irritated at Greg's distraction. She slapped his back to get his attention.
"Did you run the samples from yesterday? The ones from the victims and the 2 by 4?"
Greg glanced up at her briefly before rolling his chair over to a table. "Yeah. DNA from the blood matches your female vic, but not the male. The skin on the wood is also from your female." He shrugged. "It wasn't used to kill your John Doe."
Sara frowned. "So we have another murder weapon to find." She thanked Greg quickly, then headed towards the break room, where Catherine and Nick were discussing their case.
"Have you guys seen Grissom?" she asked them. "Turns out that 2 by 4 was only used for one of the victims. We're going to have to go back out there and find the other weapon."
"Gris went home," Catherine told her, looking up from a file. "He left about an hour ago. Said his back hurt."
Nick huffed. "Actually, we had to make him go home. Poor guy could barely walk."
Sara's face flushed, wondering if Grissom had told them how his back had been hurt.
"You could probably call him. Or you could even drop by his house on your break if the information is that important. You know Grissom, not being at work right now is probably killing him," Catherine added.
Sara nodded. "Sure. Riiight…" she rolled her eyes at them before turning to pay another visit to the evidence room. She spent an hour or so in there, studying the pictures from the scene, and looking over the weapon again. Finally she slammed her hands onto the table, grabbed her keys, and went out into the parking lot. She started the engine, then paused, leaning her head against the steering wheel.
She hadn't known she'd hurt Grissom bad enough to keep him from working. Now she felt really guilty. She sighed. It was the least she could do for him; let him know that they were stuck. And maybe he would know better than her what to do.
She drove in silence to his home, not even thinking about where she was going. She just seemed to know the way instinctively. She parked on the side of the road.
Well, at least he's home, she thought, spotting his Tahoe. She grabbed the folder from the seat and made her way up to his door. She knocked gently, not wanting to frighten him. She smiled to herself. Poor guy probably doesn't get too many visitors.
There was no answer, so she knocked a little harder. To her surprise, the door opened a bit by itself. She stared at it for a moment, her heart leaping into her throat. It didn't seem like Grissom to leave his front door open. She reached for her gun, grateful that she had decided to wear it to work today. With the possibility of going back into the Las Vega underworld, she didn't want to be caught unarmed.
She slowly pushed the door open. "Grissom?" she called, hoping he'd simply forgotten to shut the door, as uncharacteristic as it seemed. She took her fingers away from the trigger, not wanting to accidentally shoot Grissom if he surprised her. "You here, Grissom?"
She quickly walked through the kitchen, noticing that his fridge was slightly open, and a broken glass lay on the floor. She frowned, then made her way into his living room. Everything on his tables seemed to be in place, if they had a place at all. Then her eyes fell on something lying on the floor. It seemed out of place. She quickly kneeled down to see what it was.
It was Grissom's cell phone, flipped open, ready for use. She peered at the display, where the name 'Sara' shone on the screen. Speed dial, she realized. He was trying to call me for something. She closed her eyes for a second, then let them fall on the door to his bedroom. It was closed, but a red stain running down the side of it did nothing to soothe her fear.
Almost tiptoeing, she carefully pushed open the door, years of CSI experience telling her not to disturb the blood. She pushed it all the way open, glancing around the room.
Grissom's bed was messed up, but it did nothing to indicate a struggle. But then she glanced up at the far wall. A large blood splatter stood out on the white walls, chilling her blood. Her eyes traveled down the smear to where it disappeared behind the bed. A pair of shoes could be seen just beyond the foot of the bed, but it wasn't the shoes that caught her attention. It was the feet and legs attached to them.
"Grissom!" she screamed, dropping her gun as she rushed to him. He was crumpled on the floor, having fallen over after sliding down the wall. His eyes were closed, and a pool of blood had gathered beneath him.
Sara could have swore her heart stopped beating. She reached out a hand to touch his face, but stopped, mere inches from him. He's probably already getting cold…she thought grimly. She didn't want to feel him like that, she wanted to remember his warmth. She clenched her eyes shut, then closed the last few inches, running her fingers down his cheek.
And froze. He was warm. Very warm. She opened her eyes, putting her other hand to his face. "Grissom?" she asked, desperate to find a sign of life. She moved a hand down to his neck, feeling for a pulse. She found one, weak, but present.
"Grissom! Grissom, can you hear me?" she asked, though she didn't really expect an answer. Her eyes traveled down his face to his blood-soaked shirt. She reached for the buttons of his shirt, hesitating only a second before unbuttoning the shirt and pushing it aside to get a better view.
She couldn't see anything through the blood, so she raced to the bathroom, grabbed a few towels, then kneeled by him again. She wiped away some of the blood with one towel, searching for the source of it all. She found what looked like a bullet hole in his abdomen, just below his ribs. She grimaced and pressed the towel to the wound, carefully leaning him forward to search his back for an exit wound. There was none.
She then laid him onto his back, knowing that she had to stop the bleeding or else she would lose him. She cradled his head in her lap, fighting back the tears that threatened to overcome her. Come on Sidle, she told herself. If ever you needed to stay calm and collected, this is the time. If you panic, Grissom will die. You will lose him forever.
Still holding his head, she pulled out her own phone and dialed 911. She spoke to the operator, sounding almost monotonous as she reported Grissom's condition. If only the woman knew how badly she just wanted to scream her anguish to the heavens and all who would listen…
She refused to stay on the line with the woman, not wanting to hear her say that everything was alright when it quite obviously wasn't. She gave them Grissom's address, then pressed the button.
She clenched her eyes shut, then pressed her forehead to Grissom's. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
To her surprise, he stirred and groaned. His eyes slowly opened, clouded with pain. "Sara...?" he managed to say, almost inaudibly.
She smiled, more for his sake than actual happiness. "Yeah, I'm here Grissom. Don't worry. I'll take care of you."
A small smile flickered across his lips as his eyes closed again, dropping him once again in the void of unconsciousness. Sara wiped a stray tear from her eye, then held him closer to her, all the while keeping a firm hold on the towel that was fighting to stop the bleeding. "I'm sorry," she repeated.