A/N: I've had a couple of emails asking about the newest chapter of 'The CD' [chapter 8] - saying they get the 'chapter does not exist' message - if you are having any problems accessing it, contact me at lithium_shamrock@hotmail.com - and I'll email a copy : )
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The sunlight was more apparent when Greg exited his car. It gave him a more reassuring perspective on things; driving at dawn usually took his imagination into overdrive.
He hoped all his fears were imaginary. But nothing could drive them out his mind; he needed proof she was ok.
That she was still breathing, both physically and emotionally. He wondered what had made her snap at the crime scene; the explosion; or just life in general.
He dug his fingernails into his fist to prevent berating himself; whatever she had done, it wasn't his fault.
…But he knew it would feel that way. Since the explosion he felt like he had a closer bond to Sara, just because of that one experience they had shared.
He was beginning to realise how foolish he was for running all those lights.
'You can't help her if you get a ticket…or worse.'
He parked his car near to her apartment block, and ran all the way to it.
He was surprised how much fear he held for her.
He knew why. He was projecting /his/ emotions that /he/ had from the explosion onto her. He had felt so lost and alone…so empty…
…He couldn't stand even the suggestion that she was experiencing the same thing…
…But he feared it.
He'd been here before; at her door. When her car was being fixed. He'd given most of the CSI's and lab techs rides to work at some point or another. That's what friends do for each other…they also check on each other.
Greg silently cursed Grissom for leaving her here; he didn't really care if she was in there having the time of her life, or…or something worse. You don't just leave people when they're struggling. Anyone could see Sara was.
Everyone commented on it; how attached she got to cases – they always pointed it out to her – no one ever tried helping her.
The door to her apartment was open; not ajar, just open. He only tried the handle after several minutes of no response to knocking.
He quietly shut the door behind him; she could be sleeping, not locking the door might be an oversight.
Then he saw her. And something inside snapped. His eyes started to burn with tears; and he started to wish that he'd run more lights.
Sara was just lying on her couch, in the foetal position; she was clearly visible, but since the blinds were closed it was still quite dark.
Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing heavily; she looked like she was hyperventilating.
But Greg only noticed these details subsequent to seeing what she was holding in her hands.
Even though it was hard to see in the dark, it was still transparently clear what she was holding. Her pale hands were wrapped around it; bringing its form into view.
She was holding her gun.
Her eyes suddenly opened, and her head turned toward him. Greg could only assume she'd heard the door, other than that he'd been quiet.
He wondered what she'd say, would she say anything?
Her eyes were empty; but her face turned from expressionless to angry. She shifted herself into a sitting position, and her hands gripped the gun.
Trying to catch her breath, she looked away from him; not through shame or embarrassment, but more of anger. She was angry he was there.
Then she spoke; and her words instilled Greg with a sickening fear.
"Whatever you have to say, it's too late. I have to do this"
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The sunlight was more apparent when Greg exited his car. It gave him a more reassuring perspective on things; driving at dawn usually took his imagination into overdrive.
He hoped all his fears were imaginary. But nothing could drive them out his mind; he needed proof she was ok.
That she was still breathing, both physically and emotionally. He wondered what had made her snap at the crime scene; the explosion; or just life in general.
He dug his fingernails into his fist to prevent berating himself; whatever she had done, it wasn't his fault.
…But he knew it would feel that way. Since the explosion he felt like he had a closer bond to Sara, just because of that one experience they had shared.
He was beginning to realise how foolish he was for running all those lights.
'You can't help her if you get a ticket…or worse.'
He parked his car near to her apartment block, and ran all the way to it.
He was surprised how much fear he held for her.
He knew why. He was projecting /his/ emotions that /he/ had from the explosion onto her. He had felt so lost and alone…so empty…
…He couldn't stand even the suggestion that she was experiencing the same thing…
…But he feared it.
He'd been here before; at her door. When her car was being fixed. He'd given most of the CSI's and lab techs rides to work at some point or another. That's what friends do for each other…they also check on each other.
Greg silently cursed Grissom for leaving her here; he didn't really care if she was in there having the time of her life, or…or something worse. You don't just leave people when they're struggling. Anyone could see Sara was.
Everyone commented on it; how attached she got to cases – they always pointed it out to her – no one ever tried helping her.
The door to her apartment was open; not ajar, just open. He only tried the handle after several minutes of no response to knocking.
He quietly shut the door behind him; she could be sleeping, not locking the door might be an oversight.
Then he saw her. And something inside snapped. His eyes started to burn with tears; and he started to wish that he'd run more lights.
Sara was just lying on her couch, in the foetal position; she was clearly visible, but since the blinds were closed it was still quite dark.
Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing heavily; she looked like she was hyperventilating.
But Greg only noticed these details subsequent to seeing what she was holding in her hands.
Even though it was hard to see in the dark, it was still transparently clear what she was holding. Her pale hands were wrapped around it; bringing its form into view.
She was holding her gun.
Her eyes suddenly opened, and her head turned toward him. Greg could only assume she'd heard the door, other than that he'd been quiet.
He wondered what she'd say, would she say anything?
Her eyes were empty; but her face turned from expressionless to angry. She shifted herself into a sitting position, and her hands gripped the gun.
Trying to catch her breath, she looked away from him; not through shame or embarrassment, but more of anger. She was angry he was there.
Then she spoke; and her words instilled Greg with a sickening fear.
"Whatever you have to say, it's too late. I have to do this"