Author's note: Ugh, sorry again guys. I know it's been a VERY long while, but I just got out of school, and had six VERY hard exams to study for. But now school's out, and I'll be writing 24/7! Just to let you know now, I'm working on the final chapter with an ending that'll leave you speechless, and as soon as this is done I'll be starting a new WiP that ties in with this one. You'll see how! It's all so exciting!
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: To TPTB belong S and G. Uhhh, does that make sense??
…………….
Sara woke up slowly, her head becoming a drum for consciousness. She rolled over on her side and grabbed her head, willing the pain to go away. A few tears fell out from behind closed eyes as, through clenched teeth, she quickly let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. She rolled onto her back again as an awareness of her new surroundings sunk in. She opened her heavy eyelids.
'I'm not in the basement anymore,' she thought to herself as her tired eyes focused on the dirty white ceiling above her head.
She set her hands on the soft carpet beneath her and pushed herself up. Sara stared down at the pale green fibers beneath her fingertips, then gradually inspected the room around her. The walls were light blue, dotted with a few dark smudges of dirt. A carefully made bed sat against the far wall, its old cotton sheets gathering dust. Sara turned her head to the right. A small nightstand had been placed under the grimy window.
A window.
Sara stood up, and on shaky legs walked over to the window. Her heart beat faster with anticipation. She lifted a hand to the dirty glass, her fingertips gently making contact with the cool surface. She pulled away slightly at the feel of it, but quickly pressed her whole palm against it. The other hand lethargically wiped away some of the dirt that clung to the window. Sara leaned down, brown eyes searching the horizon outside.
There was nothing but field, but for a minute Sara was lost in the brilliant blue of the sky, and the wave of the branches on a scraggly tree outside the window. Sara chuckled. She'd have to get Grissom to look at this. She stopped.
Reality can be a bastard.
Sara shook her head and closed her eyes. She leaned her back against the wall and let her tears wind salty paths down her bruised cheeks. Slowly she slid to the ground, her head collapsing into her hands.
There was nothing anymore, it seemed. She'd lost Grissom. She prayed he was alive. Hope seemed to be lost, and hope had been the only thing she had left. But like so much here, it had been ripped away. Now all she had was the chance that Grissom was still alive, and that maybe they would get out of this… together.
…………
Grissom had grown accustomed to waking up with pain shooting through every inch of his body, but the pain he felt this morning was unbearable. He had opened his eyes and was completely numb to the physical pain that was sweeping his body yet again, but the emptiness of the room, the quiet echo of water dripping on the cement floor, that's what was killing him.
Grissom was staring ahead at the darkness in front of him, trying to conjure up an image of Sara in his head. One of her smiling, laughing, being happy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying again for anything, but he only managed to squeeze out a few tears that he had been holding back. He violently wiped them away, furious with himself that he couldn't remember her face.
Grissom's hand slipped to his wrist, his fingers trying to find a pulse. When he found it, he let his fingers rest, feeling his life pumping through his beaten body, going a thousand miles a minute. He was mad. Really mad. Time slowly ticked by, and his fingers continued to rest on his wrist. He was still alive. He had the proof he needed. But he felt cold, and dead.
And what about Sara?
He shuddered as his mind formed images of what could have happened. Mark could have taken her upstairs. Dragged her into a room. He could have had his way with her. Then, when he was done, he could have suffocated her, left her body alone in some dark room.
Grissom shook his head. Mark was right. This was Hell. The pain, the torture of not knowing where Sara was, the being hopelessly trapped. There was no escape from this. He probably would die here, and his selfishly wanting to tell Sara how he felt brought her here to die too. Something he should have told her forever ago. She could be dead because of it. He was crying now, but he didn't care.
"Grissom…I love you, and no matter what, we're going to get out of this together."
Grissom smiled as her voice and her promise echoed through his head. He had to hold on because, no matter where she was, Sara was doing the same.
…………
He bolted into the house, slamming the door. Throwing the duffel bags aside, he ran out into the living room. He grabbed the box that had been sitting in the corner since this plan had been hatched and took it out to the kitchen.
LVMPD would get a bang out of this.
Mark chuckled, then got to work, carefully planning his schemes end.
…………
Brass had always hated hospitals. That never-ending drone of beeping machines and the intercom that didn't shut up calling Dr. Whatsisname and Nurse Whosit to this room, or that phone. All that, and the smell of disinfectant and stale blood.
It was one thing, though, to walk through quickly to interview a witness or suspect, and then to just as quickly walk out. It was another thing completely to be stuck here altogether.
Brass still hated it.
He tried to move, and winced as pain shot through his shoulder. He turned his head as her heard quiet laughter at the door.
"Yeah, you wouldn't be laughing if this were you," he said as Catherine walked into the room, taking the chair next to his bed.
"You're right, I'm sorry," said Catherine, still grinning.
The room was quiet in for a minute, but Brass soon spoke up.
"That license plate? What's happenin' with it?"
"Warrick ran it through DMV records and came up with a name. Mark Thompson. We checked police records to see if maybe the car had been reported stolen, but nothing came up. We've asked the judge for a warrant. Nick should be getting a hold of me soon with an answer."
Brass smiled and shook his head. It could almost be over. After all this, Gil and Sara could finally be found, and they could finally be done with it. It all rested on a judge. Ugh.
Beep, beep, beep.
Catherine flinched as her pager went off. She slid it off her belt loop and peered down at it. She smiled, then looked up at Brass.
"I gotta go. We got it."
Brass smiled as she stood up and quickly made her way out of the room. He shook his head. Yep, it could all be over soon. He just prayed it would be a happy ending.
TBC
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: To TPTB belong S and G. Uhhh, does that make sense??
…………….
Sara woke up slowly, her head becoming a drum for consciousness. She rolled over on her side and grabbed her head, willing the pain to go away. A few tears fell out from behind closed eyes as, through clenched teeth, she quickly let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. She rolled onto her back again as an awareness of her new surroundings sunk in. She opened her heavy eyelids.
'I'm not in the basement anymore,' she thought to herself as her tired eyes focused on the dirty white ceiling above her head.
She set her hands on the soft carpet beneath her and pushed herself up. Sara stared down at the pale green fibers beneath her fingertips, then gradually inspected the room around her. The walls were light blue, dotted with a few dark smudges of dirt. A carefully made bed sat against the far wall, its old cotton sheets gathering dust. Sara turned her head to the right. A small nightstand had been placed under the grimy window.
A window.
Sara stood up, and on shaky legs walked over to the window. Her heart beat faster with anticipation. She lifted a hand to the dirty glass, her fingertips gently making contact with the cool surface. She pulled away slightly at the feel of it, but quickly pressed her whole palm against it. The other hand lethargically wiped away some of the dirt that clung to the window. Sara leaned down, brown eyes searching the horizon outside.
There was nothing but field, but for a minute Sara was lost in the brilliant blue of the sky, and the wave of the branches on a scraggly tree outside the window. Sara chuckled. She'd have to get Grissom to look at this. She stopped.
Reality can be a bastard.
Sara shook her head and closed her eyes. She leaned her back against the wall and let her tears wind salty paths down her bruised cheeks. Slowly she slid to the ground, her head collapsing into her hands.
There was nothing anymore, it seemed. She'd lost Grissom. She prayed he was alive. Hope seemed to be lost, and hope had been the only thing she had left. But like so much here, it had been ripped away. Now all she had was the chance that Grissom was still alive, and that maybe they would get out of this… together.
…………
Grissom had grown accustomed to waking up with pain shooting through every inch of his body, but the pain he felt this morning was unbearable. He had opened his eyes and was completely numb to the physical pain that was sweeping his body yet again, but the emptiness of the room, the quiet echo of water dripping on the cement floor, that's what was killing him.
Grissom was staring ahead at the darkness in front of him, trying to conjure up an image of Sara in his head. One of her smiling, laughing, being happy. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying again for anything, but he only managed to squeeze out a few tears that he had been holding back. He violently wiped them away, furious with himself that he couldn't remember her face.
Grissom's hand slipped to his wrist, his fingers trying to find a pulse. When he found it, he let his fingers rest, feeling his life pumping through his beaten body, going a thousand miles a minute. He was mad. Really mad. Time slowly ticked by, and his fingers continued to rest on his wrist. He was still alive. He had the proof he needed. But he felt cold, and dead.
And what about Sara?
He shuddered as his mind formed images of what could have happened. Mark could have taken her upstairs. Dragged her into a room. He could have had his way with her. Then, when he was done, he could have suffocated her, left her body alone in some dark room.
Grissom shook his head. Mark was right. This was Hell. The pain, the torture of not knowing where Sara was, the being hopelessly trapped. There was no escape from this. He probably would die here, and his selfishly wanting to tell Sara how he felt brought her here to die too. Something he should have told her forever ago. She could be dead because of it. He was crying now, but he didn't care.
"Grissom…I love you, and no matter what, we're going to get out of this together."
Grissom smiled as her voice and her promise echoed through his head. He had to hold on because, no matter where she was, Sara was doing the same.
…………
He bolted into the house, slamming the door. Throwing the duffel bags aside, he ran out into the living room. He grabbed the box that had been sitting in the corner since this plan had been hatched and took it out to the kitchen.
LVMPD would get a bang out of this.
Mark chuckled, then got to work, carefully planning his schemes end.
…………
Brass had always hated hospitals. That never-ending drone of beeping machines and the intercom that didn't shut up calling Dr. Whatsisname and Nurse Whosit to this room, or that phone. All that, and the smell of disinfectant and stale blood.
It was one thing, though, to walk through quickly to interview a witness or suspect, and then to just as quickly walk out. It was another thing completely to be stuck here altogether.
Brass still hated it.
He tried to move, and winced as pain shot through his shoulder. He turned his head as her heard quiet laughter at the door.
"Yeah, you wouldn't be laughing if this were you," he said as Catherine walked into the room, taking the chair next to his bed.
"You're right, I'm sorry," said Catherine, still grinning.
The room was quiet in for a minute, but Brass soon spoke up.
"That license plate? What's happenin' with it?"
"Warrick ran it through DMV records and came up with a name. Mark Thompson. We checked police records to see if maybe the car had been reported stolen, but nothing came up. We've asked the judge for a warrant. Nick should be getting a hold of me soon with an answer."
Brass smiled and shook his head. It could almost be over. After all this, Gil and Sara could finally be found, and they could finally be done with it. It all rested on a judge. Ugh.
Beep, beep, beep.
Catherine flinched as her pager went off. She slid it off her belt loop and peered down at it. She smiled, then looked up at Brass.
"I gotta go. We got it."
Brass smiled as she stood up and quickly made her way out of the room. He shook his head. Yep, it could all be over soon. He just prayed it would be a happy ending.
TBC