A/N: As always, I do not own any part of CSI. This is the final chapter, apologies for the delay; I had to re-work it several times. I didn't like the first fifteen drafts. ;-)
Chapter 3: In time
CSI headquarters was a warren of glass and steel, twisting back upon itself repeatedly as labs and offices were tucked in almost as helter-skelter as an ant colony. It was no wonder Grissom felt so at home there.
Tonight though, he barely noticed his surroundings as he made his way to the little back-corner lab where Sara had secluded herself after the Barber connection had come up. He had tried to talk to her that morning as she poured over the evidence from the cold case. He winced as he remembered the cool look she had given him when he finally found her. She'd barely listened as he tried to talk to her, tried to explain why he'd needed to put the whole team on the Lyford case; there had been the ticking clock, the sheriff breathing down their necks, a suspect ready to be freed, Warrick's guilt over the forgotten search warrant.
She'd interrupted him then, her voice echoing softly through the small room. "Right. Warrick. Your favorite CSI."
Not knowing how to answer that, how to deny it without telling her the truth of who was his favorite, he'd tried switching tactics. "Sara. In the end, the time didn't matter to Andrea Barber; we never had enough to go on. It did matter to the Lyford family. And to Michael Fife."
When she'd finally looked up, Grissom almost wished she hadn't, the pain in her eyes was too much. "We know that…now…Grissom. But at the time, we didn't know Andrea Barber's case would be full of dead ends. We let the case go cold, and now he's out killing again."
"Sara…An innocent man is free, and a guilty man is in jail because of the work we did on the Lyford case. This isn't your fault. "
She closed her eyes, holding up a hand to forestall any more discussion. "I said I know Grissom. Just…I just want to look it over again. "
When she looked back down at her work he'd opened his mouth to argue further, only to close it with a sigh. "All right. Don't stay here all day, Sara."
He should have known she wouldn't listen; he should have stayed and made her go home and get some sleep. Sending her home now was going to be a battle he wasn't sure he was prepared to wage.
A crash from the direction where Sara was working snapped Grissom out of his thoughts. He frowned as his pace increased, and found himself jogging as he made it to the last corridor.
"Sara…" He could see the struggle through the glass walls of the lab as soon as he turned the corner. Sara, his Sara, shoved against the edge of the evidence table, a man's hands around her throat. "SARA!" In the split second between uttering her name, and screaming it, he could feel the weight of a decade of denial collapsing on him. Dreamlike, it seemed he was running in a mire, muck reaching up to impede him as he raced to reach her, every second taking him to the edge of 'too late'. Already she was weakening, her hands dropping helplessly to her side.
Grissom crashed into the lab; the sound of the door slamming against the wall made the man inside jerk in surprise and loosen his grip slightly. It was enough, enough to let Sara gulp a frantic breath, enough to stave off the blackness for another moment. Grissom spared a second to wish he carried his sidearm in the lab as he strode across the few steps that separated them. His voice thundered through the room as he reached out a hand to clamp on the man's shoulder. "Get the hell off of her!"
The man merely grunted as Grissom reached down to pry his fingers from their grip on Sara's throat, his gaze locking on her wide eyes. He peeled fingers back, pressing his body between hers and her attacker, each move punctuated by a word. "Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her. Now!" Fingers loosened, Grissom twisted, stepping in front of Sara and shoving the man forcefully into the wall. Behind him, he could hear her desperate struggles for breath, the sound etching a scowl on his face as he turned to where her assailant had crumpled to the floor.
"Her fault…her fault Maddy is dead."
"What?" Grissom stared uncomprehendingly at the twisted face of Jeremy Beal as he reached behind him to gather a trembling Sara into his arms. He couldn't look at her, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't take his eyes off the man still sprawled on the floor. A trickle of blood made it's way down Jeremy's face, where his head had been slammed against the glass wall. Grissom noted the blood with something like fierce satisfaction. "Sara didn't have anything to do with what happened to your wife, Mr. Beal."
"She did." His voice was a growl as he forced himself back to his feet, "The paper…I saw it in the paper. She," he spat the word as he looked at Sara leaning weakly against Grissom's chest. "She let him go. A year ago…the paper…I saw it." He waved his hand around the room, "I came to ask her why. Why did she quit looking? Why did she give up? Why did she let him go to kill my Maddy?"
Grissom felt more than heard Sara's pained gasp at the man's reasoning. He tightened his arms around her, held her more tightly as she pushed to escape the accusation. "You're wrong, Mr. Beal." He risked a glance down then, wincing as he spied the angry red marks circling her neck, standing in stark contrast to her pale face. His eyes met hers for a moment, lingering on them as he whispered to both her and Beal. "Sara never gives up on anything." He pulled his gaze back to the other man. "I pulled Sara from the Barber case. I put her on one that was…"
"More important?" Jeremy Beal had recovered enough to sneer at Grissom, clenching his hands clenching in fists.
"No." Grissom shook his head, "Just one we had less time to solve."
Jeremy Beal wiped at the blood dripping onto his neck, "You should have made time for her!"
Grissom sighed, gently lifting a hand to stroke Sara's hair. He felt her shift and risked another glance, his eyes catching hers and holding them for a moment. "I should have made time for a lot of things." Beal's sob drew his attention away from her; he looked up in time to see the man slide back down the wall to wrap his arms around his knees.
"I should have made time for Maddy."
Grissom had no answer for that, the words an echo of what his own would have been, had he been a few minutes later. He probably wouldn't have come up with an answer even if Brass hadn't chosen that moment to rush into the room with Catherine and Warrick.
One look at the bruises already welling around Sara's throat, and the detective's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched tightly. He glanced at Catherine, then back at Sara, "Cath, take her. Call an ambulance. Warrick, call the desk, put a rush on those guards." As he spoke, he crouched next to Beal and roughly pressed him the rest of the way to the ground to search for weapons.
"No…" Sara's voice barely choked out the syllable as she pushed weakly against Grissom.
"Please Sara," Gil's hand shook as he touched her neck gently, "We…" He paused, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "I just need to know you're all right." At her slow nod, he gently transferred her to Catherine who led her from the lab. Once she was gone, his low voice filled the room, "How did you know?"
"Backup's on the way." Warrick flipped his phone closed with a sharp snap, then looked from Beal to Grissom, his own face set in an angry grimace. "You gave Cath your messages. There were several from him, each one more irate than the last. Judy from reception told Cath he came in looking for Sara. She told him to have a seat, and then took a delivery. When she was done, he was gone. Catherine found us," he nodded to Brass, "We didn't think Sara needed a confrontation with an angry husband, so we came looking."
Grissom nodded wearily as he sank onto one of the stools and silently watched Jeremy Beal until the two uniformed officers arrived.
"Get him out of here, Jim."
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"Catherine," Grissom jogged back into CSI from the police station, ignoring Judy's calls about new messages from Atwater and Carvallo. Booking Jeremy Beal had already taken more of his time than he wanted, the sheriff and lab director could just wait. "How's Sara?"
"Sore. Scared. The EMTs checked her out, of course she refused to go to the hospital." She paused, her tone somewhat exasperated. "You know Sara. How are you, Gil?"
He sighed, pulling his hand roughly over his face, "I'm fine." He glanced back to Judy with a deepening frown, "I'd be better if you'd answer those messages for me. Where is Sara?"
"Of course," Catherine nodded. "We tried to send her home to get some rest." She quirked a smile at the stubbornness of the youngest CSI, "She's in the locker room. Waiting for you, I think."
"Thanks Cath."
Grissom found Sara slumped on one of the benches, leaning forward and resting her head against her locker. Her eyes were closed, her fingers clutched in her lap. He could see tears glistening on her cheeks. She looked so fragile that his breath caught in his throat.
Sara looked up at the sound, hastily brushing at her cheeks. Her voice broke as she whispered his name.
Her normally sweet, husky voice was hoarse; the word scratched out barely loud enough to hear. He let the door close behind him, his eyes meeting hers. "Hurts to talk?" He hovered just inside the locker room, his feet cemented to the floor.
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes again. The tears were what did it. As soon as he saw them, Grissom was across the room, kneeling at her side, his hands reaching up to encase hers. "Sara, honey…I'm so sorry."
She stared at their hands, watched as a tear fell across his knuckles. "Not your fault." She squeezed his fingers, wincing as she tried to swallow back more tears. She sniffed, dropping her chin against her chest and clenched her eyes closed tightly.
He let his own eyes drift closed, running his thumbs gently over her fingers. "No Sara, I am sorry. I didn't listen to you when I pulled you off that case, I might have still had to take you off, but I should have listened to you. I'm sorry I haven't listened to you much at all lately." He dropped his own head, leaning it gently against hers. "I'm sorry for so many things."
"Shhhh." Sara squeezed his hands again, "Doesn't matter now. If…if you hadn't…today…if you hadn't been there…" Sobs came then, for all she tried to hold them back.
"Sara," Grissom rose to sit beside her, pulling her to him. He held her tightly as her body shook, his hands gentle and soothing. His lips brushed lightly over her hair as he whispered her name repeatedly. "I have you, you're safe. I'm here. I'll always be here."
Sara curled her fingers around his shirt, pressed her face tightly against his neck until the sobs finally subsided. Slowly she relaxed, until she was able to sit up and meet his eyes. "Always?"
Grissom smiled and touched her cheek gently, "Always Sara." He dropped his lips to her forehead, smiling gently into her hair. "Always." His thumb came up to caress her neck softly, "You need to rest. Let me take you home. We can talk later. I know we have a lot to talk about."
Sara answered his smile softly, "We have time."
The End