CHAPTER 6

James left the room quickly and before Sara could reject Grissom's hospitality, a high-strung nurse burst into her room with several release forms and written instructions for Sara's outpatient care.

Grissom was impressed with Sara's business-like efficiency as she completed each form. Even after everything that had just happened, her handwriting was neat and her attention to detail was impeccable.

"Brass wanted to know if you would prefer giving a statement at the station or from your house," Grissom said abruptly, his social awkwardness rearing its ugly head.

Sara didn't look up from her paperwork.

'If I go to the station, everyone will know if they don't already,' Sara thought to herself. 'If I have Brass in my house, that memory will live there forever.'

Sara was quiet for so long, Grissom was about to repeat the question when she quietly said, "Let's, uh, why don't we go to my place."

Grissom nodded and as Sara finished the last of her paperwork, he moved to help her get into her wheelchair.

"I got it Griss," she said, rebuffing his chivalry. He watched as she clumsily maneuvered herself into the chair, an impressive feat with two plaster casts.

The ride to Sara's apartment was silent. Grissom stole glances at her every now and then, noticing that the tremor in her hands had returned. The bruises on her face had bloomed to a deep purplish red, emphasized by the darker red clot on her split lip.

Sara's nerves threatened to strangle the sanity from her mind. Grissom, Gil Grissom, the most handsome and utterly sexy man on the planet had volunteered to stay with her for a month. Under any other circumstances, she would be leaping up and down like a minimum wage worker who just hit a million dollar jackpot.

His willingness to stay with her made her feel both annoyed and flattered. If only he could have stayed with her after some other case, on some other day when she would have been able to wrestle him to the ground and have her way with him.

But reality was never so sweet. He was staying with her because she was hurt, because he thought that she couldn't take care of herself. Deep down, Sara was humiliated. She would be forced to recount her attack for Brass, essentially confessing that she had been too weak to fend these guys off. Grissom would know, beyond a doubt that she shouldn't be allowed out alone in the field. She felt like a liability.

Grissom has miscellaneous platitudes and quotations floating through his head, but none seemed appropriate for this situation.

And so, silence reigned until Grissom pulled into the parking lot of Sara's apartment complex.

"I'll help you out," he said, not wanting to repeat the experience of watching Sara vault herself precariously into the front seat of the Tahoe.

Sara swallowed as Grissom grabbed the wheelchair and brought it to her door.

After assessing the situation for a moment, he leaned toward her and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back. Sara immediately inhaled in scent, a mixture of a sweet-musky cologne and some divine Grissom pheromone she found irresistible.

She put her head down as Grissom wheeled her to her apartment, a location he knew because he had driven her home after her DUI.

'God,' she thought, 'he really gets to see me under the best of circumstances.'

Grissom knocked on her door and to Sara's surprise and horror, Brass opened it.

Sara forced her chin up and focused on Brass' tie, a monstrous green and orange blotchy disaster.

Brass was immediately taken back by Sara's appearance. Years of police work helped him mask his reaction, but as his eyes flickered to her neck, her wrists and her casts, Grissom knew the old detective was appalled.

"Sara, I'm sure that you want to get this over as soon as possible and I have everything set up so we can get out of your hair," Brass said, forcing a smile for one of his favorite CSIs.

Sara gave Brass a halfhearted smile. "Thanks Jim," she said quietly.

Grissom wheeled her over to Brass' makeshift interrogation room.

Brass looked up at Grissom. His friend looked sick with worry, concern and something else-guilt? sadness?

"Sara, we can do this anyway you want. It could be just me. Or Grissom can stay as well," Brass said, ignoring Grissom's clenched jaw and piercing blue eyes.

Sara didn't hesitate. "He can stay."

Brass nodded, then leaned forward and flicked on his audio recorder. After reading off the case number and other pertinent information, he looked at Sara.

Her demeanor had changed; she'd gone from the injured victim to the brilliant witness in twenty seconds flat. The first thought that popped into Brass' head: 'Wow, she's done this before.' He ignored it and gave Sara her cue, "Okay Sara, I want you to tell me exactly what happened in as much detail as you possibly can."

Sara nodded. Her brown eyes stared at the audio recorder as she spoke.

"When I arrived on the scene, the officers introduced themselves as Jeff and Barrett. I should have known immediately that they were not legitimate officers because Jeff had a visible tattoo and uniformed officers have to cover their ink."

Brass nodded. He had noticed that flaw in their otherwise pristine imitation as well.

"I went upstairs to find the point of entry, which was the last bedroom in the hallway. Upon examining the window, I was confused about how the breaking and entering had occurred because there was a solid brick wall. I remember thinking to myself that this suspect must have flown through the window. The mental image I had was funny, so I laughed."

Her eyes darkened and she wrapped her good arm around herself.

"When I laughed, someone spoke from behind me and I turned around to see Jeff and Barrett entering the room. I informed them that proper protocol required at least one of them to remain outside at all times."

She hesitated and took a deep breath.

"Barrett started walking toward me and I heard Jeff lock the deadbolt to the door. I thought it was odd that the door even had a deadbolt and I was actually mad at myself for missing that detail on the way into the room. I wasn't sure exactly how to extricate myself from this situation. I decided to surprise Barrett by plowing into him and I did. He stumbled back into Jeff and I went to my kit to try to find my gun as they regained their balance."

Brass was impressed with Sara's composure. He knew the worst was yet to come, but the detail of her account was certainly impressive.

"I, I couldn't find my gun quickly enough and Barrett, who seemed quite unhappy about our previous altercation grabbed my arm," she gestured to her broken arm, "and pulled me to my feet. I was regaining my balance when he hit me and I fell next to the bed. My vision was a little fuzzy for a few seconds and Barrett threw me on the bed."

Grissom lowered his head. He was unsure that he would be able to keep his composure while Sara recounted what happened next. Rage, blinding, white-hot rage coursed through his veins and he had visions of numerous entomological tortures he could inflict on her assailants.

"I knew nothing good could come of that, so I tried to scramble off the bed away from Barrett but I hadn't accounted for Jeff and he tackled me onto the bed. He was lying on top of me like a dead person and I really couldn't get him off. Barrett had climbed to the head of the bed and, with Jeff's help, he managed to get both of my arms pinned above my head."

Sara paused as images and sensations ran through her body. Brass waited and Grissom ground his teeth so hard they started to squeak.

"I protested and told them that I did not want to engage in any kind of amorous activity with them, and…"

Brass interrupted her. "Sara, I know this is hard, but do you recall your exact words?"

She nodded. "I think I said, 'you don't have to do this' and Jeff said that he wanted to," her voice wavered ever so slightly. "And then he ripped open my shirt and started grabbing me, and I asked him to let go of me and to stop."

Grissom rubbed his forehead. If only he had gone with her, she would be okay. He should have double-checked on her location.

"Clearly, he didn't listen and he leaned his head toward me and said, 'you'll like it, bitch.' I took that opportunity to head butt him as hard as I could."

'That's my Sara,' Brass thought to himself. 'Always a fighter.'

"That didn't agree with him and he leaned back and hit me several times, um, at least four times, across the face. It gets a little fuzzy toward the end. I tasted blood and I knew my lip had split. I kept struggling a bit, but I was still reeling from the blows to my head when Jeff grabbed my throat and I could barely see or breath."

Sara seemed to be revealing the crime from a bystander's point of view. Brass saw that often in traumatic crimes. For some, it was a brilliant survival tactic while for others, it was merely a way of avoiding the painful feelings of the crime itself.

"I asked them to stop and, I know that at some point, my pants and stuff were removed. I don't exactly recall when. I do know that Jeff ran his hand up my thigh and touched me. His hand was freezing and it startled me a bit. I figured I should give it my best shot and I struggled as hard as a possibly could, but I just wasn't strong enough to get away from them."

Sara paused and took a drink of water from the mug in front of her. Brass looked heartbroken. He just didn't want to hear that Sara had been raped.

"I was still fighting with them when Jeff leaned down and kissed me while he was trying to penetrate. He had some difficult with that and he spit on his hand for some added lubrication."

Grissom felt like a ferocious tiger stuck inside a kitten. If he were Mike Tyson, these men would be pulp. But his style had always been to win with a more sophisticated method and he vowed to stick to that.

"He leaned down to kiss me again. He held both sides of my head this time so that I would have to kiss him because the last time, I had turned away. At that point, I heard a loud thwack and the SWAT team arrived on the scene. I was treated by paramedics, went to the hospital and here I am."

Sara looked at Brass, who nodded slowly.

"So there was no…"

"No. They didn't have the chance," Sara said.

He stopped the audio recorder. "Sara, if there's anything you need, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call me. My wife made a veggie lasagna for you while you were in the hospital and it's sitting in your fridge. But seriously kid, anything at all."

Sara nodded, touched by Brass' sincerity.

"Thanks Brass."

And with that, Brass gathered his things and left.

Grissom and Sara were alone.