I'm home sick today so I have time to throw out a chapter. I got some interesting feedback from jtbwriter. She has been a consistent presence on this journey, and I appreciate her willingness to offer critical response. She suggests that I am dragging it out too long; thinking perhaps, I am creating devices to keep Sara and Grissom apart. Good thoughts. I always find that feedback slows as I get deeper into my stories. God knows they are long. Years ago, I wrote a story for The West Wing that was two hundred pages. I do get obsessive about these things.
As for this story, I have to say this. I made a decision to let her be kidnapped and have to follow it through. I work with trauma and know that it is not an easy road. I can't make it go too quickly for Griss and Sara. She's too vulnerable to make a commitment quite yet. There is too much to process. Danny is quickly morphing into a friend rather than romantic rival. What I have planned here is a little unusual, but feels right for the story.
Good news is that there is an end to the story planned. I am anticipating that it will be in the 19th, 20th or 21st chapter. I appreciate those of you who have followed me through this. I do like angst and it is not my intention to be torturous. I want it to be compelling and interesting. Again, jtbwriter, thanks for taking the time to read and think about the story. I appreciate your words.
Sheila
Chapter 16
Afraid of the Light
Sara's eyes became fixated on the pool as Sam slowly led her around it to the group of tables and chairs they were using as a common meeting spot. Nick was there, Catherine, Brass, and Jack. She knew there would be fussing, but Sam knew of no other way to handle the situation. Sara's attention was solely focused on the clear blue water, and Sam had to physically guide her away from it.
Brass looked up. "Hey sunshine, what a nice surprise. I had no idea they were going to be springing you this soon."
Sam caught the note of concern in his voice. "Sara was pretty adamant about it. Weren't you, Sara?"
Sara didn't bother to acknowledge her. She seemed mesmerized with the pool. Sam mouthed the word, 'help' at the gathered. Nicky jumped up and came over. He took Sara's arm and steered her away from the gathered. She squeezed his arm tightly, and he took her over to a couple of chaise lounges by the pool. He sat down with her, and let her quietly gaze at the pool.
Sam watched all of this and then came over, dropping into Nick's chair. "I didn't know what to do. She was dressed, and ready to go. I could not get her back into her room. She says that she is done with dungeons. Whatever that means. Her detail is still here. They stationed themselves at the entrance to the motel."
"Posttraumatic Stress," Jack said simply. "Her mind can't find its way back home yet."
"Finding out about the third man may have hit her harder than I thought." Said Catherine.
"It's a process. We see it in our follow-up with victims and their families."
Sam interjected. "She is very focused on an idea you gave her about a trip to Mexico to find a pool with a bar in the middle."
Jack nodded. "She needs a place to go; somewhere she can get relief from the memories of the trauma. Look at her now. She's entranced with the pool. Probably imagines that it could cleanse her; wash away the filth they left her with."
"Are you a psychologist?" Catherine asked.
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "No, but I need a psychological edge when I do this work.
"What should we do for her?"
"Watch her closely especially for signs of dissociation. She may transition to another reality off and on. The concern is that she will make decisions in that reality which are not congruent in this one."
"An example," Sam jumped in. "would be her dissociating and believing that the pool is the only place she can survive."
"She could drown herself?" Brass' voice rose a little.
"I don't think so, but we have to watch her."
"If I follow you correctly, then under no circumstances do we tell her about Hatfield's request." Brass added.
"Exactly."
Across the pool, Sara leaned on Nick's shoulder. There was no talking; just Sara watching the hypnotic patterns of the drifting water and Nick holding onto her for dear life.
…………………………………………………………………………………………
Grissom was tired and in pain. Much of this could explain his mood. But there was more. The people around her had allowed her to just get up and walk out of the hospital two days before she was scheduled to exit. It angered him past the point of reason.
Dusk was beautiful with the Sierra Nevada as back drop. The warm hues of a sunset glowed along the horizon. They were all still gathered at the table, talking and arguing. Behind them the pool shimmered in the neon lights that littered the block. Occasional raucous laughter would erupt. Sara sat between Catherine and Warrick. She had a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Grissom himself could feel the draft of a desert evening, and was further annoyed that they let her sit out in this cool air.
He approached quietly and ignored the greetings that came his direction. He focused his attentions on Sara who immediately caught his gaze. She looked distant and pale to him.
"Sara needs rest." He announced perfunctorily. Everyone stopped talking and looked at him. She said nothing.
"She's just been sitting here with us. Got bored at the hospital." Catherine was massaging Sara's blanketed back.
"She shouldn't have been allowed to leave." Grissom stood his ground.
Sara didn't bristle as expected when this conversation happened in front of her. Rather she looked on as if an interested bystander.
"She made a choice. This is where she wants to be." Brass said.
Grissom rubbed at his eyes with his good arm. The other ached incessantly. He couldn't remember where the ibuprofen was that the nurse gave him that morning. Exhaustion, hunger, and pain competed for his attention.
Jack seemed to read him as he held out an open pizza box with a half eaten thin crust inside. Grissom could see that the table was riddled with the remains from other boxes. His rage settled some, and he let Nick pull over a chair for him. Jack sat the box on his lap and he dug in. Someone passed him a beer, but Catherine intercepted and switched it with a bottled water. He accepted it and let his anger begin to melt away. Conversation resumed around him. As he ate, he could feel Sara's eyes on him. She looked so young to him tonight. Her face was thin, and her eyes had grown in proportion. She stared at him unabashed, not blushing or looking away when his eyes caught hers.
He finished eating and put the box on the ground. For a few minutes, he tried to engage in conversation, but he couldn't feign the interest. Finally he got up and asked about sleeping arrangements. Again, he stopped the conversation cold. The rooms were a disorganized hodgepodge of revolving roommates who wanted nothing but a place to lay their heads for a few hours. Organizing Grissom and Sara into the mix took some time and involved several different sleeping scenarios. Finally, Brass told Grissom to take his room, and he would find a place to crash in Warrick's or Greg's room. Knowledge that he would take Sara with him was left unsaid.
Grissom said his goodnights and took Brass' key. His eyes rested on Sara for a moment, but he was reluctant to push her. He couldn't bring himself to say anything to her. So he turned and walked away. She pulled the blanket around her waist and followed him.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
Sleeping arrangements became complicated after they left. Greg had a single bed in his room. Warrick reluctantly admitted that he was sharing space with Catherine. Nick was shacking up with the beautiful Sam Spade from New York. Jack's was the only open room. He offered begrudgingly and Brass accepted with a facial expression generally reserved for finding parking tickets on his windshield.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Jack moved his things from the empty bed in his room. He thought about clearing space for the homicide captain in the bathroom, but figured that shouldn't be an issue for two men. Jack hoped that Brass liked basketball because he was going to get his share of it in this room. Jack switched on ESPN and searched the schedule for NCAA play-off times. He found a game he could really sink his teeth into, Duke vs. Carolina, propped a couple of pillows against the headboard and leaned back. Just as he settled in, there was a knock at the door. He cursed silently, got up, and opened the door. His eyes popped open when he saw Samantha in the doorway, her bag slung over her shoulder. She brushed past him into the room and dropped her bag unto the empty bed. "Sorry, Jack. Brass and Nick are sharing a room. Watching the Final Four. Figured you weren't into basketball."
Jack glared at her. "You could have told them otherwise."
"Naw. Brass thinks there's not enough room for his ego and yours in the same room. He's right."
"There are about a hundred reasons this is not a good idea." He still stood at the door.
"Oh knock it off, Jack. I am happy to watch basketball with you. Nothing more." Sam threw pillows to the foot of the bed and draped herself over them, settling herself on her elbows.
"It's uncomfortable."
She turned her head at him. "Welcome to my life, Jack."
He furled his brow at her. "What do you mean?"
"Your feelings aren't the only ones at stake here. Remember that."
"Then why risk it?" He threw his arms up.
She sat up. "Because it is the elephant in the room. We can't walk around it forever. Besides, I think we have learned our lesson. I am with someone now. I'm not into cheating."
"You want to rub that in my face." She could feel his anger build.
"We made mistakes, Jack. We hurt people. We hurt each other. At least, I know that I got hurt. Are we uncomfortable like this because of the past or because of what is still there? Have you ever asked yourself that?"
He closed his eyes. "We can't go back, Sam."
"I'm not sure we ever left." Sam settled back onto her pillows and rested her chin in her hands.
"So what are we supposed to do?"
"Watch basketball, Jack. That's what we do. And in the back of your head, you think about why that elephant is still there." She gestured at the clicker. He reached over and tossed it to her. She turned up the volume. "If you're going to just stand there, why don't you go grab some popcorn at the lounge…and something to drink." She didn't flinch when he closed the door loudly behind him.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Grissom sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. Sara sat on the other one silently, her eyes never leaving him. He had been talking for the last fifteen minutes, a sort of stream of consciousness about why he kept himself shut off from others. He found that he was repeating himself, but couldn't seem to stop. It had been simple when he was too drugged to process events. Now it felt too clear and foreboding. She sat quietly through his entire monologue. Finally he lapsed into silence.
Then she spoke, "Grissom, I need you."
"You're fragile. I don't know what to do." His head hung.
"I just need you to hold me." Her whisper slid over him like the wind of a coming storm and he shivered. Slowly he got up, the creak in the bedsprings a deafening roar, and walked over to her. An arm reached out and pulled him down. She put her arms around his neck and held him fiercely. He turned her and lay down on the bed beside her.
She rolled onto her back and looked up at him perched on his side. He gently laid his cast on her stomach. She reached up and stroked his beard. "I'm not right, Griss."
"Posttraumatic stress. It's going to take a while, Honey." Her fingers on his face sent shivers of sensation down his spine. It was all he could do to stay still.
She screwed up her face. "I have to fight it. I can't let myself sit in this fog."
It was too much. He leaned down and kissed her cheek softly. He spoke softly in her ear. "You have to be patient, Sara. Her body is not the enemy. You deserve care and love right now. That is what will help you heal."
"I didn't fight hard enough." She rubbed her face against his.
He leaned back. "You're too hard on yourself. You are not the same girl who had to look out for herself 'cause her mom killed her dad. You don't have to be tough now. We know you're a fighter. We're all here to take over so you can heal."
She reached up and tugged on his beard. He closed his eyes and let her pull him down to her. Her lips pulled at his mouth and he let her explore gently. Shaking fingers stroked his cheek and he groaned at the poetry of her touch. He opened his mouth and kissed her hard. She responded. The two reached awkwardly for one another on the bed. He moved on top of her, and began kissing her neck. She held onto him tightly. He reached under her shirt and his right hand began to explore. Sharp ridges surprised him and he sat back. His eyes never leaving her face, he pulled her shirt off her stomach. He looked down and saw that her ribs were etched deeply into her skin. A wave of guilt swept away his desire. She was not yet herself; the strong woman he so deeply loved. She was only days away from a deep trauma: still underfed, still weakened. Clarity still only came to her in pieces, and the scars of her ordeal were still forming on her soul.
He closed his eyes. "Sara, we're not ready for this."
"Please, don't coddle me." She reached for his face.
He pulled away. "I'm not. I want you, Sara. I love you. But we're not ready."
"This is just another excuse." She rolled away from him. "It will always be something."
"Are you listening, Sara?" He spoke to her back. "I love you. There's no turning back. I've said it. You know. I love you. I don't want to walk away."
"I know more than you think, Grissom. I know you keep secrets."
He scrunched up his face, unsure of what she was referring to. "What secrets, Sara? This can't be about Sofia. I haven't talked to her since before you disappeared. I don't intend to."
"I know more than you think." She repeated. And then she rolled back to face him. "It's okay. I understand why you protect me, but you have to let me fight for me. I can't just sit on the sidelines."
"I'm not sure I know what you are talking about." He found the courage to reach out and stroke her hair.
"It's okay. You just need to know that I can't get better if I am just sitting around letting others do what needs to be done."
"Honey, this will be a struggle. You have the hardest fight of all. The rest of us are going to have to let you take the lead in all this."
She smiled. "Thank you. I knew you would understand." She snuggled into his body and closed her eyes. "I'm so tired, Griss."
He pulled her to him and stroked her thin form. "Just rest, Honey. Just rest."
Her breathing settled into a quiet rhythm. When he was sure she was sleeping, he let himself relax. But before he drifted off, he heard her murmur. "I love you too, Gil Grissom."
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Grissom heard pounding on the door, and he sat upright. The unmistakable voice of Jim Brass was calling his name. He stumbled to the door and let Brass and the intense light of early morning into his room.
Brass pushed past him into the room. "Is she here? I hope to God they're wrong."
Grissom wheeled around and noticed for the first time, he was alone in the room. Brass bounded out of the bathroom and threw him a shirt. "You can dress on the way there." He ran past him out the door. Grissom grabbed his shirt, a jacket, and chased after Brass. In the courtyard, there was more shouting. Malone had grabbed a squad and Sam and Catherine climbed in after him. Another squad pulled up and Brass commandeered it, stuffing Grissom inside, and, for the moment, ignoring his frantic questions. Brass shouted directions to deputies and climbed in the front seat. The car took off.
"Jesus, Jim, tell me something now!" Grissom exploded from the back.
Brass swiveled around. "She went to the station about ninety minutes ago. Said she was there to interview Hatfield. Showed credentials to them. She doesn't have her own here; must have taken yours. I get a call ten minutes ago because the morning shift supervisor was suspicious about the set-up. I told him to pull her out immediately. Then I came for you."
Grissom stared at Jim for an instant before responding. "Sara went into an interview alone with Hatfield?"
Brass nodded. "She must have overheard Corcoran's offer from one of the deputies. Knew we would never agree to his demands."
Grissom groaned. "She told me she was going to do this last night. I didn't realize what she was talking about. Said she had to fight for herself. Said she couldn't be on the sidelines. God! She's existing on the edge, Jim. Get her out of there!"
Jim picked up his cell and punched in numbers. He waited. At first no one answered. Then he got a young deputy. Jim barked at him, and then he listened. He put the phone to his chest for a minute and said quietly. "Gil, she's locked herself in there with him."
……………………………………………………………………………………………
TBC
