Fear Itself
Chapter Three
Grissom entered his townhouse exhausted, and full of worry. His heart was heavy from having to admit Sara to the psychiatric facility, but he knew that she would be safe there with people to watch over her, make sure that she bathed, and ate. His hopes that Sara would get through her trauma were shattered. She was usually so strong, and brave.
He blamed himself for her vulnerability. He helped her tap into that naïve and vulnerable side that Sara was not aware of. He had put her in positions that no one should ever have to be put in and she constantly grappled with her feelings over him, while he was so sure for many years that he loved her, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it to her. Now if he said it, he wasn't sure if she would hear it or not.
He felt the beginnings of a migraine and he rested on his couch.
The rest of the team would probably inquire about Sara and he decided that he'd be honest with them. There was no sense in pretending that she was going to be okay in a little while. Sara needed serious help, and he could no longer deny that.
He didn't want to turn on the television because he knew that the pile up would be on all of the stations for hours and he didn't want to have to see the carnage all over again after seeing it up close. It was a wonder that he even made it through the whole process knowing that Sara was among the injured. She was lucky as far as physical health goes, but mentally, whatever she saw would be etched in her memory for a long time coming.
Grissom rubbed his temples and closed his eyes to the memory of Sara's eyes. Her eyes were always alight with compassion and expectation. She had come in like that earlier in the shift. He sent her off to a crime scene; that was the reason why she was on the highway in the first place. Her crime scene was a floater. Grissom told her that he would meet her up there in an hour and she nodded with a slight grin as she headed out. Within that hour, there was pure and total chaos, and it had affected everybody in different ways.
It was affecting Grissom in ways that he never thought anything could ever affect him; that was only so because he thought it would never happen to him. Sara would always be right there within his reach. Now, it was as if she was being pulled farther and farther away from him by some unseen force. Lately, in his dreams, all he could see was Sara holding out a desperate hand to him and bidding him come closer, and as soon as he got just close enough, she seemed that much farther away and then his subconscious would fade and he would no longer see her beautiful face.
The pain of his migraine was unbearable, and he took one of his prescription pills. All of a sudden, he felt the tickle of something wet and warm going down his cheek. It was a tear, no doubt, and he hadn't shed not a single one in a long time over anything. Sara didn't realize how powerful the effect she had on him was. She was the driving force in his life, and for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to admit that.
***
Catherine gazed out to the moon rising in the sky, bearing a beautiful and unique orange tint that had always fascinated her. She watched the moonlight filter into her now tepid coffee as she splayed her fingers out on the rather dirty table.
Dirty tables and tepid coffee was the least of her worries. The ominous and undeniable fact that terrorism had come to Las Vegas loomed over her head, and she felt that there was no refuge. She couldn't find refuge within herself, nor Grissom, Nick, or Warrick.
That was the reason that she had not gone home to Lindsay as of yet. Catherine had to get her head straight and make herself be brave so that she wouldn't worry her little girl, who was still too young to understand the things people do to each other.
The attack that had happened two weeks before seemed to make the whole city realize its own mortality, and a somber mood permeated the normally rushed and exhilarated atmosphere of Sin City.
Twenty three people were killed in the unprecedented attack. Ten of the victims were killed near where the two eighteen wheelers exploded. Of the six cars that were near the trucks, including Sara's, Sara was the only survivor. As for the other thirteen, either they were killed by their cars being smashed by other cars, rollovers, or head on collisions with other cars. Sara was the only eye witness to what went on before the horrific scene played itself out.
Catherine understood Sara's silence. Sometimes, talking wouldn't rid you of the bad memories.
With a long, heavy sigh, Catherine looked at her watch and decided that it was time to go home to Lindsay.
As she drove home, she decided to take the access road instead. She'd been avoiding getting on the freeways, and she knew that eventually, she would have to start taking them because it was the fastest way to get from point A to point B. People had often said that the terrorists would be victorious if people feared everyday life. That was exactly what they wanted: fear. If people were afraid to get up in the morning and head out to work, then they had succeeded. Catherine knew she couldn't let them win. She was stronger than that.
When she walked into her home, Lindsay was fast asleep on the couch, and the baby sitter was sitting in the arm chair reading a magazine.
"Hey Tasha," Catherine said with a smile. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"It's okay Ms. Willows," the seventeen year old said, throwing the magazine lightly onto the coffee table.
Catherine paid the young woman and bade her goodnight. She then turned her attention to Lindsay, who was sleeping like the angel she was.
Catherine knew that if it wasn't for Lindsay, she'd probably would have still been married to Eddie, rest his soul, and she would have still had a habit. The day she found out she was pregnant with Lindsay was the day she turned her life around, and she never regretted a single thing since then.
She woke up her ten year old daughter and put her to bed.
Once she felt that Lindsay was safe and secure in the sanctity of her own bedroom, Catherine went on to bed herself.
She changed out of her work clothes and put on a night shirt. She stared at her queen sized bed. She had not shared that bed with a partner in a long time, and she felt even more lonely. She never outwardly showed that she was lonely; in the privacy of her home, she was as lonely as the ugly duckling. It didn't help to admit to herself that she was almost approaching forty and that she wasn't getting any younger.
The pile up scared the wits out of her, and all she could think about was dying alone. It was not a good thing to think about, but it was a constant in her thoughts.
With a melancholy sigh, she turned down the covers and climbed into bed. She could sleep on whatever side she wanted, for it didn't matter anymore. The coldness of the bed chilled her right to the bone and she longed for warmth. It wasn't the cold; she was scared.
She leaned over and picked up the phone and dialed the only number that was on her speed dial.
"Hey," she said softly. "Did I wake you? Oh…well, I was wondering if you could come over to my house for a little while…just because…yeah…I'm afraid…I don't know, I just need somebody right now and you're the only person I could think of…okay…bye."
She hung up the phone and snuggled deeper into her covers.
***
For some reason, sleep never came easily to Warrick, and now that he was in the midst of investigating the utter destruction from two weeks before, sleep seemed to have vanished. It became an intangible need and he was in no shape to pursue it.
He admitted that he was shaken up a little; knowing that Sara was the only eye witness to the whole ordeal practically, and the fact that she had not been well enough to describe what happened since then didn't help anything.
Anxiety had gripped the entire city of Las Vegas, and that was something that had never been felt in the city before; Warrick figured that he should know since he was born and raised in the Babylon like city. It had always been considered the other city that never slept. There were always lights on, and there was always some action somewhere. He used to be a part of that action until he almost lost his job.
He quit that life because he had worked so hard to get to where he was so that he could start another life. Not saying that he didn't get out every once in a while, but he traded in most of his old life for new.
Part of that new life was being there for others because most of the time, he could relate; if there was one thing he knew about people, it was that they had ticks, and he understood ticks because he was a man of many ticks. Another fact was that he was no different from them. Most of the time he'd filled those roles of teen outcast, addict, lovesick, heartbroken, and sometimes, just plain old tired. He'd known all of those emotions and when faced with someone in those kinds of situations, he felt an obligation to help them.
Now, he was on his way to Catherine's house. He took the freeway. There was no sense in being afraid of getting on the freeway. He figured that whatever happens, happens and he was powerless to stop destiny.
He pulled into the driveway and parked. The entire front of the house was dark, but he could see the soft glow of light from the side, which obviously was her bedroom.
He rang the door bell. He glanced around the porch. In the day time, a visitor would be able to see Lindsay and Catherine's handiwork. There were colorful flowerpots and the wooden bench was painted in different colors. Just in front of the porch was a flower patch that contained narcissus, violets, and foxgloves. They were rather odd combinations, but somehow, it seemed to work, and it made the house beautiful.
Warrick heard the front door unlocking from within; he'd barely heard her footsteps, and he knew that she still had that dancer's grace about her. Toe-ball-heel. That's what they were taught to remember. He always told her that she'd be a great dancer (not exotically). She never took any dancing classes, it was just a natural talent that she could have built on.
When she opened the door, he immediately looked away, slightly embarrassed at the sight of her legs. It didn't help that they were silky, long, and satiny looking. It was the first time that he'd ever seen her partly dressed. Her attire, while still sexy, was professional, never bearing anything more than some cleavage, and now here were her legs, in bare glory as he tried his hardest not to give them a longer look in passing as he entered the house.
Catherine, in her haste to welcome Warrick, had not put any pants on with her shirt, and she was beet red as she saw him look away.
"Come in," she said as she stepped aside.
He stepped into the house tentatively, and stood in the foyer.
"Can I get you something to drink?" She asked, nervously tugging at her shirt as if it would magically cover her up.
"No, I'm good thanks," Warrick said.
All of a sudden, all self consciousness in Catherine was replaced by her earlier need for comfort and warmth. She needed to know that she wasn't the only one feeling what she was feeling.
"Um, you can take your coat off if you want and throw it on the couch," she said in a small voice.
He took off his coat and did with it as Catherine instructed. There were no pretenses and no words spoken. They simply let their eyes communicate what they'd been trying to say to each other for years, and what they'd been trying to feel for days.
Was this the time for such feelings? Not knowing the answer, Warrick journeyed into the unknown as he felt himself being led by Catherine to her bedroom.
She let go of his hand and closed the door, then she walked past him and got back in her bed.
She looked at him with a pleading expression.
"I really need you tonight," she whispered. "I don't have anyone else."
Warrick felt like he was frozen in time. He was in the bedroom of the woman that he'd been desiring for years and now he was rendered speechless by her confession.
Suddenly, he regained his motor skills and he moved over to her bed. He sat down and took off his shoes before laying next to her. She sighed as she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" He asked, knowing that really, it was s dumb question.
"For being there for me," she said, now looking up at him. "You're the only one that stands in the way between me and the edge."
"You're welcome," he said.
She stared deep into his eyes and before he knew it, her lips were on his and he didn't know what to do. The emotion in the room was thick, and the air became thin as the kiss gradually deepened. Warrick could no longer resist Catherine Michelle Willows and he ran his fingers through her silky reddish blond hair.
He felt her hands sneak under his shirt as his hands caressed her legs. They traveled all the way up to her bottom. She moaned and pulled her lips away from his and began to kiss his neck. He did the same to her and somehow, in the process, clothes started to come off. Catherine had begun to unbutton his shirt from the bottom button, and he hiked her shirt up farther and farther.
"Catherine," he whispered.
"Yes?" She asked, her eyes and her voice loaded with pleasure.
"Should we be doing this right now?" He asked.
He didn't want to ask that question, but he didn't want to take advantage of her feelings. That would be wrong on his part and that would ruin their friendship.
"I don't want to be afraid," she whispered.
She kissed him again and there was no more talking.
They eventually got all of their clothes off, and the bedroom and the bed itself became much warmer as they made love for the first time. They stayed quiet out of credence to Lindsay, but it was quite a struggle for Catherine because she savored every touch, kiss, nip, and motion Warrick delivered to her.
There was partly silence, except for the gasps and encouragements from either Catherine, or both of them.
They swallowed each other's moans of passion when they climaxed with a deep, sensual, and satisfied kiss and they pulled away from each other. Catherine was panting desperately and she had her eyes closed tightly and Warrick buried his face in her neck.
Later, they just laid in bed, not regretting one second of their long awaited moment together.
***
Grissom found Sara sitting rather listlessly on the couch in the visitation lounge the afternoon he visited her. She was staring at something, and she didn't even turn to him when he said hello.
The nurse brought him a light lunch in the hopes of him encouraging Sara to eat.
"You look beautiful," Grissom said to her as he peeled the banana that was a part of the lunch. He took off a small piece and held it close to her lips.
She made no move to eat it or push it away. He sighed and said, "Sara, you have to eat something honey," he coaxed. "You're going to blow away in the wind if you don't."
Again, she didn't respond, and Grissom ate the piece himself. She turned and looked at him for a moment before curling herself up into a little ball and placing her head atop her knees, staring blankly. The other patients in the psychiatric ward were rather intimidated by Sara's emotionless stare, and it caused an uproar in the visiting lounge.
He tried again in vain to get her to eat something, but she wouldn't, and he ended up abandoning the lunch as the nurses came and took care of her.
"We were hoping we wouldn't have to do this today," one young looking nurse said rather sadly.
Grissom watched as the nurse took Sara's arm, felt for a vein, and slipped in an IV of something for Sara to stay nourished in under two minutes. Sara made no motion to move, and it took quite a bit of coaxing on the nurse's part to get her to even stand up.
"Do you want to go for a walk back to your residence hall? C'mon, let's go for a walk," the nurse said lovingly. "Would you like to join us sir?"
The facility that Sara was in was beautiful. The grounds were crisp and clean from a fresh cutting, and it was relaxing. It was large, with different wings and areas.
"Sometimes a little walk livens her up," the nurse chuckled. "But not too much. So, are you a relative?"
Grissom turned to the nurse. "No, I work with her," he explained.
"Oh," she said solemnly. "I know you must be worried sick."
Grissom nodded.
Sara was walking rather slowly, and he wasn't sure if it was because the nurse set the pace, or if it was Sara's pace.
Everything was calm until Sara collapsed and began screaming and flaying her arms and legs around. The IV pole was thrown to the ground, and Grissom was stunned. He kneeled down and helped the nurse get control of Sara.
"Hold on Sara," the nurse said firmly. "Calm down."
Grissom held her arms down and allowed the nurse to give Sara a sedative.
"There," the nurse cooed as Sara slowly calmed down. "It's okay. You'll feel better in a second."
Grissom didn't know what was going on. He felt that he himself might have a breakdown just from witnessing Sara's condition. She seemed to have deteriorated since the last time he visited her, and he had no idea about her screaming fits. Sara's mental condition had gone from bad to worse, and he knew that he would have to come to terms with the fact that she may never recover.
Two other nurses came out with a gurney.
"How often does she do that?" Grissom asked.
"She's only done it about four times over the last couple of weeks," the nurse explained, now out of breath. "We have to put her in restraints at night to keep her from hurting herself, and she's on suicide watch as a precaution."
Grissom shook his head at the severity of what Sara was going through.
He couldn't look at her anymore, for his heart was hurting.
As he walked back to his car, his cell phone rang.
"Grissom," he answered solemnly.
"Hey," Catherine said from the other line. "We've got the accident set up if you want to come see."
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes."
"Okay," Catherine sighed. "How's Sara?"
"Not good," he said. "I can't talk about her right now."
"Alright," Catherine conceded. "I'll see you then."
"Bye," Grissom said, then he hung up.
***
Grissom walked in and met Catherine, Nick, Warrick, and Archie in the audio/visual room.
There was no need for greetings. They all knew what they were feeling, and what was going on; there was no use in cordial exchange to pretend like there was nothing going on around them. Friendship was not enough to combat the sheer feeling of emptiness that fear gave them. There was just no point in it at all.
"Ready?" Catherine asked.
Grissom nodded swiftly and Catherine began the simulation for how they thought the attack went down.
"We positioned the cars the best way we could according to other witnesses," Nick explained.
Grissom watched only the marker for Sara's car. He saw the two semis speeding past the first five cars then positioning themselves to block the road. Sara's car was rolling on the screen steadily until the semis explode. Three cars flip over on top of other cars, including the one that T-boned Sara's car. He watched as Sara's car swerved and flipped over into the median. The whole simulation was pure chaos, like something out of a twisted epic or movie. He could only imagine the reality of the whole situation.
When the simulation was finally over, everyone seemed to breathe out a collective sigh. It was torture watching it because they thought of their coworker Sara and how she had been affected by it.
"Warrick and I will head out to the garage to look for evidence in the two semis," Nick said. "There's bound to be something."
"And I'll check out what kind of explosive was used in the bombings," Catherine said. "I'm willing to bet my ass that it was C-four."
Grissom could only nod.
A cell phone rang, and everyone checked to see if it was theirs or not. It was Catherine and she held up a finger to indicate that.
"Willows," she said rather gruffly. "Yeah…oh my God…" Her face paled and she dropped her phone.
"Catherine?" Nick inquired. "What happened?"
"Lindsay…" Was all she whispered before darting out of the room.