Title: Lost Butterflies
Summary: The CSI team deal with the loss of one of their own.
Disclaimer: CSI doesn't belong to me. It belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer.
Spoilers: Set after Butterflied
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Indicate a flash back Chapter 2
Nick Stokes sat at the table in the interrogation room with Brass, Grissom and the Sheriff. For once though he wasn't asking the questions. This time he was on the wrong side of the table.
"Okay, Nick, just go through everything that happened the last time you saw Sara." Brass spoke as though he was talking to a child and trying desperately not to crack into a fit of rage. "I went over to her house during the day, a couple hours before shift. She opened the door on the second knock and seemed fine. She let me in. We talked, I left."
"Care to be a little more vague?" The sheriff snapped. "You know the drill Stokes..." "What did you talk about?" Jim's patient voice interrupted. Nick looked down to the table.
"I...I..."
"What Stokes? You went back to your car and came back with a shotgun?" "I had to see if she was okay!" Nick shouted slamming his fist off the table.
"Which is more than any of you have done lately. There was something seriously wrong with her and none of you noticed..." He paused and shook his head. He'd said too much. He'd let it slip. He'd broken his promise to her.
Grissom had been silent until Nick's out burst and now he looked close to tears. "The thing about Sara is...was...that she was good at hiding what was wrong."He muttered. "She'd put aside personal problems and get on with the job."
"Nick, what was wrong?" Brass continued, keeping up his professional demeanor. Nick looked down at his palms and then told them.
He knocked on the door and heard her inside. After a few moments he knocked again and she opened the door with her weapon by her side, which, as they didn't start work for another few hours, he found odd. She'd been strange lately. Cold and distant.
"Hey, can I come in?" She looked at him through sleep-deprived eyes and nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Then after a quick glance along the street she closed the door and followed him to the living room. The curtains were drawn and the early afternoon sun was kept out.
She smiled sweetly, hoping to trick him like she'd done all the others, but Nick had been noticing her for almost a week now. It was too late to hide. "What's up?" He sat down on the couch and looked at her with concern etched on his face. "I could ask you same thing. The crime scene, yesterday. You flipped when you saw that Mercedes parked across the road. You've just seemed preoccupied lately." "It's nothing." Her voice broke slightly as she said nothing and Nick wasn't fooled. She saw it in his eyes. The concern and sympathy shone from the puppy eyes he was directing at her.
She sat down and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm...I'm being stalked." Nick had been prepared for anything. Drugs, alcohol, gambling, not that he thought any would be the likely problem, but that had caught him off guard. At his silence she continued. "For two weeks now. I've noticed a Mercedes following me, at work, going to the store...but it always drove past. It never stopped. Not until yesterday. Someone broke into my house last week and someone sent me photographs of my whole day a few days ago..."
Nick picked up his cell phone. "I'll call Brass, get a few officers to check the place..."
"No!" She snatched the phone away and cancelled the call. "I can handle it. Just leave it Nick. Please, promise me that you'll leave it." "Sara! We're CSI, we know what a stalker can develop in to. From peeping Tom, to stalker to...to rapist. I won't let that happen." Her eyes were watering now and her face was painted in fear. "Nick...please. Don't tell anyone, especially Brass...or Grissom. I don't want them to know. I promise if anything happens I'll tell you. Please?"
"You should have told us." Grissom's tone was quiet but lethal. It was full of disappointment. Brass was quietly staring at Nick with a frown on his aging face. The sheriff was the first to move and he left, slamming the door behind him, muttering something about setting an example. "Grissom..." "Just go Nick." The senior CSI mumbled. "You're suspended until this investigation is over. Do I make myself clear?" "But..." "No buts!" Grissom roared. "We have the case, the sheriff let us have it, but you won't be part of my team."
Nick was angry now. He'd only kept his word like Sara had asked. He respected her, unlike Grissom who'd ignored her obvious distress. "I want to help!" "Yeah, and you did a great job while she was alive!" Grissom rose to his feet as the younger man stood and violently knocked his chair over.
"At least I noticed. I saw how upset she was. You just ignored her. Left her alone and hoped you wouldn't have to deal with it. I might have screwed up keeping my promise, but at least I noticed her when she was alive. I guess things have to be dead for you to relate to them." He stormed out and slammed the door attracting the attention of nearby staff that looked curiously at the red face Texan as he stormed off.
It wasn't his fault that she'd died. It wasn't. How could he have known things would grow to this level?
"From peeping Tom, to stalker, to...to rapist." He should have made her report it. It was his fault. She was dead because of him. Then he stopped dead in his tracks and changed direction so he was heading to the morgue. He had to know if his suspicions were true. He prayed they weren't. He couldn't take that guilt.
Nick Stokes sat at the table in the interrogation room with Brass, Grissom and the Sheriff. For once though he wasn't asking the questions. This time he was on the wrong side of the table.
"Okay, Nick, just go through everything that happened the last time you saw Sara." Brass spoke as though he was talking to a child and trying desperately not to crack into a fit of rage. "I went over to her house during the day, a couple hours before shift. She opened the door on the second knock and seemed fine. She let me in. We talked, I left."
"Care to be a little more vague?" The sheriff snapped. "You know the drill Stokes..." "What did you talk about?" Jim's patient voice interrupted. Nick looked down to the table.
"I...I..."
"What Stokes? You went back to your car and came back with a shotgun?" "I had to see if she was okay!" Nick shouted slamming his fist off the table.
"Which is more than any of you have done lately. There was something seriously wrong with her and none of you noticed..." He paused and shook his head. He'd said too much. He'd let it slip. He'd broken his promise to her.
Grissom had been silent until Nick's out burst and now he looked close to tears. "The thing about Sara is...was...that she was good at hiding what was wrong."He muttered. "She'd put aside personal problems and get on with the job."
"Nick, what was wrong?" Brass continued, keeping up his professional demeanor. Nick looked down at his palms and then told them.
He knocked on the door and heard her inside. After a few moments he knocked again and she opened the door with her weapon by her side, which, as they didn't start work for another few hours, he found odd. She'd been strange lately. Cold and distant.
"Hey, can I come in?" She looked at him through sleep-deprived eyes and nodded, stepping aside to let him in. Then after a quick glance along the street she closed the door and followed him to the living room. The curtains were drawn and the early afternoon sun was kept out.
She smiled sweetly, hoping to trick him like she'd done all the others, but Nick had been noticing her for almost a week now. It was too late to hide. "What's up?" He sat down on the couch and looked at her with concern etched on his face. "I could ask you same thing. The crime scene, yesterday. You flipped when you saw that Mercedes parked across the road. You've just seemed preoccupied lately." "It's nothing." Her voice broke slightly as she said nothing and Nick wasn't fooled. She saw it in his eyes. The concern and sympathy shone from the puppy eyes he was directing at her.
She sat down and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm...I'm being stalked." Nick had been prepared for anything. Drugs, alcohol, gambling, not that he thought any would be the likely problem, but that had caught him off guard. At his silence she continued. "For two weeks now. I've noticed a Mercedes following me, at work, going to the store...but it always drove past. It never stopped. Not until yesterday. Someone broke into my house last week and someone sent me photographs of my whole day a few days ago..."
Nick picked up his cell phone. "I'll call Brass, get a few officers to check the place..."
"No!" She snatched the phone away and cancelled the call. "I can handle it. Just leave it Nick. Please, promise me that you'll leave it." "Sara! We're CSI, we know what a stalker can develop in to. From peeping Tom, to stalker to...to rapist. I won't let that happen." Her eyes were watering now and her face was painted in fear. "Nick...please. Don't tell anyone, especially Brass...or Grissom. I don't want them to know. I promise if anything happens I'll tell you. Please?"
"You should have told us." Grissom's tone was quiet but lethal. It was full of disappointment. Brass was quietly staring at Nick with a frown on his aging face. The sheriff was the first to move and he left, slamming the door behind him, muttering something about setting an example. "Grissom..." "Just go Nick." The senior CSI mumbled. "You're suspended until this investigation is over. Do I make myself clear?" "But..." "No buts!" Grissom roared. "We have the case, the sheriff let us have it, but you won't be part of my team."
Nick was angry now. He'd only kept his word like Sara had asked. He respected her, unlike Grissom who'd ignored her obvious distress. "I want to help!" "Yeah, and you did a great job while she was alive!" Grissom rose to his feet as the younger man stood and violently knocked his chair over.
"At least I noticed. I saw how upset she was. You just ignored her. Left her alone and hoped you wouldn't have to deal with it. I might have screwed up keeping my promise, but at least I noticed her when she was alive. I guess things have to be dead for you to relate to them." He stormed out and slammed the door attracting the attention of nearby staff that looked curiously at the red face Texan as he stormed off.
It wasn't his fault that she'd died. It wasn't. How could he have known things would grow to this level?
"From peeping Tom, to stalker, to...to rapist." He should have made her report it. It was his fault. She was dead because of him. Then he stopped dead in his tracks and changed direction so he was heading to the morgue. He had to know if his suspicions were true. He prayed they weren't. He couldn't take that guilt.