Title: Grains of Sand.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine and probably never will be. I can dream though.
Summary: Don't let them slip through your fingers.
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And with a broken wing, she still sings.
She keeps an eye on the sky.
With a broken wing, she carries her dreams.
Man you ought to see her fly.
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Detective Jim Brass shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously as he watched Catherine Willows and Gill Grissom approach the scene, evidence kits in hand there strides were those of professional determination.
Taking a deep breath he rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Gill. Catherine. Before you start with the scene there's something I think you should know," he stopped, coughing lightly in an attempt to clear the lump at the back of his throat. "The victim it was … It was Sara."
Catherine who had been looking in the other direction turned to face him, a look of complete disbelief crossed her face as she looked him in the eye silently pleading with him to tell her that this was some sick joke; and what he'd just said wasn't true. But then she saw the watery glaze of his eyes and knew with a horrifying realisation that he had spoken the truth. "God no," was all she could manage as she slowly lowered herself to the ground, where she sat on the kerb with her head in between her legs. Now wasn't the time to fall apart.
"Where have they taken her?" Grissom asked his voice calm. But Brass could tell from the way he stood; back ramrod straight, both hands in his pockets and eyes fixed firmly forward, avoiding the scene to his left, that he was struggling to remain in control. "The call said the victim was alive. That a passer-by scared off the …" he trailed off biting back his anger, "perpetrator," his first choice noun hadn't been quite so restrained.
Brass nodded, slowly. "They were taking her to Desert Palms as I arrived," drawing in a deep breath he clenched his fists tightly in his pocket in an attempt to control the anger that coursed through him. "The officer on the scene at the time told me she has a stab wound to the abdomen, possible broken ribs and multiple bruises. He …" Brass trailed off, his gaze focused on his shoes before he looked up to face the criminalist "…he said there was a visible boot print on her thigh where he'd stood on her. They could see this because her jeans were round her ankles, the button ripped off. Her shirt was half on, half off and her bras was ripped off completely."
Grissom looked at Brass his eyes asking the question his vocal chords didn't have the strength too. All Brass could do was nod grimly, shaking his head he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Obvious signs of sexual assault according to the officer." Placing a hand on Grissom's shoulder he looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry," Brass's voice was barely a whisper.
Grissom could do or say nothing he was rooted to the spot. His head turned slowly looking over at the small gathering of trees that was now sectioned off with police tape. His eyes moved around the area for a few seconds before focusing on Catherine. He couldn't let himself fall apart now. Sara needed him. He might have disastrous people skills but he was a CSI it was his job to gather the evidence to put the guilty party away. At least that was something he could do for her. He'd let her down so many times before. He wasn't about to do it now. Even if it took his last breath too see whoever did this brought to justice; he would willingly give it.
Because this was Sara, the smart, stubborn, sometimes downright infuriating woman that had captured his attention with her smile many years ago and refused to let it go ever since. And the thought that somebody had laid a hand on her and hurt in the cruellest way possible was something he was finding very hard to stomach. Looking back towards the scene he saw a young man being interviewed by the police - probably the young man that saved Sara's life. A part of him was jealous, wanted to know why it couldn't have been him. But more than anything he wanted to shake the man's hand thank him for being a decent human being. He wanted to ask how he could contact the man's parents so he could thank them for raising a son with morals, who didn't turn a blind eye to someone else's suffering even if it meant putting his own life in danger.
More than anything though, he wanted to go back to two hours ago where the image he had of Sara in his mind was the one of Sara sat under a tree, when he'd first met her at the Public Garden in Boston. He had made many more images of Sara since then. Pictures of her smile, of her yawning when she thought no-one was looking. He even had one of her sat opposite him tears falling from her eyes leaving a watery path down her cheeks. That very first one of her had though, that was his favourite because that was the moment he gave himself to her. He just hadn't found the courage to admit it to himself, or to her yet.
Now though the image he held in his mind had him wanting to turn his back on everything he believed in and seek vengeance. Only the knowledge that Sara wouldn't approve of him handling things that way stopped him from doing so. So for now he would work the case, collect the evidence and piece it together. When that was done, only then could he fall apart and mourn for what was taken from Sara tonight, that she'll never get back. "Catherine I need you to go to Dessert Palms, process -" he couldn't bring himself to say 'Sara' but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to simply refer to her as 'the victim' either.
As if she'd understood Catherine nodded. "Would you like me to call Nick and Warrick on my way, let them know."
"You can tell them," Grissom sighed emotionally worn-down. "I don't want them working the case though, they already have their assignments it'll just be you and I on this. It's better that way."
Again Catherine just nodded, she turned to leave before turning back to him. "Is there anything you want me to tell her?"
He thought for a moment trying to find words that didn't sound empty or hollow. Something that didn't come across as an automatic response that people gave in situations like this but something that would mean something to Sara. That would let her know she wasn't alone even though it probably felt like it right now. Something that despite all the tension between them of late told her he was there for her; no matter what.
An almost nostalgic smile crossed his face as he softly replied. "Tell her she still owes me a ride on the swan boats and I intend to hold her to it."
If Catherine was intrigued she didn't say anything. Instead she wisely remained silent nodding to tell him that his message would be delivered before turning and walking towards her Tahoe. And a job she wished didn't need doing.