Sara picked up her own tea and drunk it as quickly as she could. She dropped the cup in the sink and made her way to her couch. She curled herself up at one end, hugging her knees to her chest. 'Closure, and for the victims, that's everything,' Catherine had said, or something like it. It was coming closer, and she would have to testify. Everything she thought she had buried so well had come up when she had smelt that perfume. Unconsciously she ran her thumb lightly under her left breast.
She was concentrating on the fact that she couldn't fell anything through her clothes when her door bell rang. She wasn't going to answer it. She wanted whoever it was go away. They rang again and knocked. She got up slowly and opened the door. She found a nervous Grissom on the other side. She stepped back so he could come in. It was up to him to start the conversation.
"Your gargoyle's not on duty," he said pleasantly.
"Who?" Sara asked sharply.
"There was a young woman here when I came last night. She was guarding you from me."
'Ah, Michelle,' "That's her job," Sara said. "Why are you here?"
"I'm sorry," he answered. He couldn't say what for. He didn't need to.
"Thanks," Sara said softening. "I'm sorry, too."
Grissom felt a weight lift but he couldn't say where it had been or when it had got there.
"Nick said to tell you that they're bringing Thomas Jamieson in. They have a warrant for his DNA."
Sara licked her lips. Grissom watched her carefully as she found her way to her couch and sunk into the corner again.
"Sara, what was it about this case?" he asked gently. "He didn't mean for her to die."
Sara scoffed. "Of course not. Why would you want a woman to die when you can have power over her for the rest of her life? When the worst dreams she has are dreams of you and she can never forget you."
Sara steeled herself to meet his questions.
"Did Nick tell you about the cuts?" she asked.
"Doctor Robbins did. He said you said it was an ant and sticks?" He questioned the last bit.
"Yeah."
Grissom waited for Sara to say what she wanted to. He wasn't going to prompt her in case it was in the wrong direction.
"She was victim six."
"How…?" 'How does that work? how do you know?'
Sara pulled herself up. Grissom forced himself to stay the four feet he was from her. Sara slowly unbuttoned her top. Grissom watched silently. Sara was only able to show him by pretending that he was, in fact, not there. This wasn't how she wanted this to happen, but she lifted her bra up slightly. Grissom examined the exposed skin dispassionately.
On the underside of Sara's left breast was an old scar of what could be an ant and…
"A tree," she said. "The ants were marching three by three, the little one stopped to climb a tree."
"They have a warrant. They have his DNA from under Pauline Hauser's finger nails and from the rope."
Grissom stepped back. Sara concentrated on buttoning up her shirt so she didn't have to look at him. She didn't have to see his reaction. He was being so very rational about it.
"I'll have to testify, everyone will know."
"Everyone has demons, Sara. The people who know you will understand, that's all that matters."
She nodded slowly. Grissom couldn't work out what to do with a depressed Sara. He could deal with Sara when she was angry because it involved standing firm. His mother had taught him that but he couldn't be caring and supportive.
He sat down beside her. As close as he could without actually touching her. If she wanted his contact, it was up to her. Sara needed to feel his warmth and lent into his arm.
"How's your case going?" she asked.
Grissom was glad for a topic that was so mundane. For them, at least, it was entirely normal to talk about other people's house break-ins.
"It's still a case," he said. "We got prints of the car, but it was at an over night car cleaning place. They have legitimate reasons to have their prints in the car."
"Tough," was her only comment.
"We have one possible print in the bathroom. On a tap; it seems our burglar went to the toilet and washed his hands."
Sara could feel Grissom chuckle lightly. She chuckled, too. He could feel her sigh against him.
"You are okay, Sara?" he asked.
Sara felt comfortable with the question. Grissom's voice was firm; he was merely reiterating a point.
"Yeah. Thanks, Grissom."
"What'd I do?"
"You sat down," she said shrugging slightly.
A moment later she pulled herself up off Grissom. She offered a hand to him.
"Coffee?"
Grissom grabbed Sara's hand to get up. He dropped it when he was standing. Whatever closeness they had had was gone behind Sara's determination to be unaffected by it.
Sara had to concentrate on making coffee correctly. Grissom watched her. He couldn't move to help her. And he couldn't say anything that might distract her. The coffee was good when it was made. Sara was still not herself despite the effort she was putting into appearing fine.
"How are you?" Grissom asked.
"Fine," Sara said. 'Considering that I've just had to relive the nightmare I survived seven years ago and I had to let you understand and I'm facing reliving it all again.'
It was obvious to Grissom that she wasn't. But she had said it with enough of her usual expression that he knew she would be fine eventually.
Sara was sure Grissom would tell her that she wasn't. When he didn't she almost really did feel fine.
