Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been, never will be.
A/N: Just a short ficlet, because I needed to write. It's a Nick POV.
Pairing: N/S
Silence
We are sitting in the conference room, all of us. Sara is supposed to fill us in on the case she is working, but the others haven't noticed she hasn't said a thing for a good ten minutes. They haven't noticed she hasn't been listening to anything they have been saying. They haven't noticed because they have been the ones talking, only listening to themselves, instead of each other or her.
Sara's silence has told me more than her words have, but that's not unusual, because that's our MO. It's comfortable our silence, reassuring and easy. The others might think, once they notice she has stopped talking, she is sulking because she is forced to hand over the case. I know she isn't. I know she knows it is getting too much for her to handle on her own. I have known this since last night and I silently scold myself for not doing something, anything.
I found her sitting in the locker room staring into the void in front of her. I asked her what was wrong. She answered "nothing" quickly followed by an "everything". The expression on her tear streaked face scared me. She took my hand leading me to the lay out room ignoring the stares directed at us. I had to turn away my head when she showed me the pictures of the victims. It was a reflex, an involuntary movement.
I'm watching her from the corner of my eyes. She is slumped forward, eyes directed to her hands which are clutched together in her lap. My heart is breaking in a million pieces and I curse Grissom for assigning her to this case. He should know by now how these cases get to her. I'm kind of glad he hasn't noticed her demeanor, because I don't think she could bear being pulled off the case completely. When she is working these cases it seems like she is working her own case or a case of a loved one. A voice in the back of my mind tells me there is a lot of truth to that thought. For now I have to suppress that thought, because at this moment I wouldn't be able to handle it, because I wouldn't be able to fix it and I have a need to fix things.
I feel the tension building up in her body. I watch her clutching her hands together so hard that her knuckles are turning white. Slowly I raise my hand, putting it in between her hands, which are surprisingly cold. She doesn't look at me, she doesn't move, but she keeps holding on to my hand, clutching it until it starts to feel numb.
When an hour later the meeting ends the others leave the conference room one by one. Her eyes haven't left her lap and my hand is still between hers. She loosened her grip at some point during the meeting, allowing me to caress the back of her hand with my thumb. I feel her moving next to me, but I don't dare to move, to shift my hand, afraid to lose the physical connection between us. I feel her slowly getting up, I brace myself against the feeling the loss of contact will undoubtedly give me, but she pulls me up with her, looking up for the very first time since the beginning of the meeting. I force myself to look at her afraid of what I will find in her eyes.
I find a soft smile; no words, just silence and that beautiful smile of hers.
END