CATHERINE
You tug insistently on Lindsey's hand. She hasn't spoken since... since. You're not going to let yourself think about it. You're just going to keep pushing yourself towards your destination, and you're going to pull her along with you. Her hand is clinging to yours with every ounce of strength she contains, and you guess that it's a good thing.
The pain hasn't hit you yet and you're glad for it. You know that you're in shock, and that the situation could get uglier-
---Who will take care of her if I'm not here to I can't leave her alone---
- than it already is, but you've only got a mile more to walk. You think about the Little Mermaid, how each footstep she took felt as if she were treading on a thousand knives, and yet she danced with the grace of angels. You're both dancers. You're both walking on naked blades. You're not sure if you have her grace, but at least you're moving forward. Lindsey acts as your crutch as you hobble quickly through the rubble of the city, the place you once called home.
You look down at your daughter and the blankness in her eyes lets you know that she's in shock, too. Hopefully she'll scream quietly when she comes out of it. Her screams are inevitable. So, you think, are yours.
The lab is just ahead now. Another quarter mile- maybe less- you can just make out the outlines of the building through the smoky haze. Outlines of possible salvation. Possible, because there's food in there, and a ballistics lab with loaded firearms in its lockers. Possible, because you don't know if you can break into the guns. Possible, because you're not sure if the lab is already... occupied... and there's no way to tell from this distance.
As you get closer, you see the shadowy form in the doorway, and your heart sinks down into your broken feet. You have no fight left in you, but you don't stop your forward motion- may as well see who or what it is before breaking into one of the Denalis in the back lot.
One form separates, becomes two. Grissom. Sara.
Grissom stirs slightly, strokes Sara's hair with a gentle hand. Looking up, he sees you standing there. His sigh is resigned.
"I'd hoped you two had gotten out."
"So had I." You look at the doors; he's looking at your legs. "Let's bust this bitch open, Gil. We're not going to last very long out here."
"You're in no shape, Cath..."
This makes you mad. Mad is good, it keeps the adrenaline pumping, keeps the pain at bay. "Shove it, Gil. I walked here from Fremont Street, I'll be god damned if I'm not going to get through one more door."
"Help me move Sara. She's..." you wince as you see his composure start to slip, "broken." Lindsey breaks away from you, wordlessly helping Grissom lower Sara to the floor. She supports her head as the two of you break the locks on the doors, forcing them open just enough to let you through. You watch them as the manuver Sara through the doors, following them down the deserted and strangely orderly halls to Grissom's office.
That's it, you think. Grissom's office. It always has been a sanctuary for you when the world got too tough to handle. Grateful for the solid walls, you lean against one, sliding down the cool surface until you're sitting on the floor. Lindsey crouches beside you, straightens out your legs. The ache is starting now, the comforting numbness wearing off now that your brain thinks that your body has reached safety. Closing your eyes, you wonder if she's the real Little Mermaid. You want to kill the witch who stole her voice. You pray that she'll find it again some day. Some day in the future-
--- if we make it that far---
- when the screaming's all over and done with, and the memory of Sam being-
--- crushed they crushed him she saw it how could she see that and ever be all right again his screams are still ringing in my ears we're never going to get through this---
- killed has faded. Words will find her again.
Hell, maybe she'll even sing.