I Forgot To Tell You
Chapter Nine
by Marita Linde/SinginSista
Thanks: Whoo! Thanks to all you betas again!! Notes: Second-to-last chapter. I'm kind of excited about how this chapter ends up. I know no one else really cares, but I do. G
Grissom didn't think he had ever driven so fast. Once his senses had cleared, he had called Brass and told him he needed backup, that as soon as they were done arresting this Romano guy he wanted them at the Lot house, ready to arrest Harry. He wouldn't let the thought that was in the back of his mind seep to the front. What if Harry had murdered more than two women by now?
The world around him was still playing in slow motion. A soft thumping sounded from behind his eyes, and he realized sleepily that it was the blood pounding through his head. He passed a red Honda, two blue Cavaliers, and a white Chevette.
He saw Brass' car in the rearview mirror and barely heard his cell phone ring. Brass told him he'd be right behind him, that he'd go with Grissom to the Lot residence to see if Harry was still there. One of the squad cars had gone back to the police station to put Harry's accomplice behind bars. In what seemed like a dream, Grissom heard Brass whisper through the phone, "One down, one to go."
After what seemed like hours, he arrived at the Lot residence, the cool grey of the house shining out at him, blinding him with its light. Brass had gotten caught behind a red light but Grissom knew somehow that he close by, that he'd be here soon. He squinted out of fear or something else, pulled into the driveway, and, stumbling on his way, finally made it to the door.
He pulled his gun out. Even as scared as he was, he wasn't stupid. His own life didn't matter now, it was all about Sara, about making sure she was OK. He knew there wasn't any time to waste now, Harry could have already killed her, and this wasn't the time to reprimand himself for possibly over-exaggerating.
She felt a thump against her skull. Oddly, it was painless at first, until she regained consciousness and was faced with the ugly expression of Harry Lot looming in front of her. He had his hands planted firmly on her shoulders and had smashed her head against the wall behind her...
The aching pain took her breath away, and she realized with horrified fear that he was going to knee her in the stomach again. He kept saying the same thing over and over again, but it was inaudible to her. The edges of her mind were fuzzy and she found she was having a hard time standing up.
The light in the room dimmed as her consciousness began to fade away once again, and then a loud shot rang through the air and her attacker jerked back with extreme ferocity, crying out in pain.
He shot him in the arm. He didn't know why; he had a clear shot of his back and he could have killed him, but he shot him in the arm. Harry bent over and grabbed his elbow, the expression on his face showing the amount of pain the shot from Grissom's gun had inflicted upon him.
Before he could say or do anything else, Brass came into the house from behind him and immediately began to arrest Harry. Only half-listening to the world around him, Grissom walked up to Sara at what could be considered a quick pace, bending down to put two fingers against her neck.
"She's alive," he stated simply, maybe for Brass to hear, maybe for himself to hear. He realized then that she was breathing, the shallow breaths causing her chest to slightly rise and fall. He thanked God, then got out his cell phone and immediately dialed 911. Brass looked at him sympathetically while leading a wincing Harry out the door.
Sara was laying down on the ground, her face turned to the side, revealing an ugly slash that was bleeding profusely. His eyes scanned down the rest of her body. Her shirt was ripped in several places, revealing either ugly bruises or bright red slashes, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that none of her clothing was removed, ruling out the possibility of rape. Just below her knee was a bloody mess of ripped skin and ligaments. He knew he had to stop the bleeding, but looking around, he saw nothing to wrap the wound in. His mind was racing, tears were forming in his eyes. Looking at her face, he saw the consequence of every mistake he had ever made with her.
Just then, the door opened and Ecklie walked in. "Morning Gil," he said amiably, casting a horrified glance at the battered body of Sara lying beside the bed.
"You got here awful fast, Conrad," Grissom said, clearing his throat to rid his voice of tears.
"Only as fast as I always do. Brass called me about twenty minutes ago and told me about Michelle, but Sara..." His eyes betrayed the fact that he didn't know about what had happened. Casting his eyes to the floor, he moved to the dead body of Michelle and began to process the scene almost immediately. "I know I don't have to ask you this, Gil, but you didn't touch anything, did you?"
Grissom only shook his head, stroking Sara's cheek as he watched her breathing. "Just her." On a look from Ecklie, he elaborated, "Sara, I mean."
Ecklie nodded, dusting the contents of the bedside table for fingerprints. "The ambulance will be here soon, Gil." Glancing at Sara's open leg wound, he frowned. "Haven't you got anything to wrap that up with?"
"No, and I'm not going to contaminate the scene by taking something from here." He motioned to the space around them. He thought for a second, then from behind his shoulder Grissom saw the striped overshirt Ecklie had been wearing only seconds before.
"Use this. I was hot, anyway," Ecklie said, and offered a tiny smile. Grissom just nodded, dumbfounded, and proceeded to wrap her leg tightly with the thin cotton fabric.
The ambulance arrived minutes later, a crew of suited men bursting into the house and immediately attending to Sara. They lifted her onto a cot and rolled her out, a concerned Grissom following them with a frown and a hand on her face.
"She's going to be OK," Grissom stated, not really wanting to hear what they would have to say about that. A young woman smiled at him and nodded.
"She'll be fine, Dr. Grissom. We just have to get her to the hospital as soon as possible and stabilize her condition." Then, looking at the worry lines on his forehead, she added, "Did you want to ride along?"
He didn't answer, just climbed into the back of the ambulance van with Sara's cot and thanked the woman. Sara's face looked abnormally peaceful and calm, and Grissom watched as the paramedics worked on her.
"Why don't you talk to her, Dr. Grissom?" one of them asked. "Sometimes it helps."
Grissom started to say, "I don't think I'd be comfortable..." but instead he stopped and nodded, taking one of her hands in his and clearing his throat. "Hey, Sara."
"How is she?" Catherine asked immediately when Grissom entered the breakroom later that day.
He smiled slightly, nodded, and said, "She's OK. Not great, but OK. They've put her on so much morphine that she couldn't wake up even if she wanted to." He looked up at her nervous face, shrugged and said, "That's all I can tell you for now Cath." "How bad is the damage? Did he break anything?" Her voice was louder now, more calm.
"Yes. Several things, actually. Two ribs, her left arm and her collarbone."
"Oh God."
"Yeah. I know." He watched as a silent tear slipped down her cheek, but didn't move until she fell against him, sobbing into his shirt. "She'll be OK, Catherine." He didn't believe it himself, but it helped to say it out loud.
Through her tears she spoke, "Do you have any idea how close he came to killing her, Grissom? He killed two other woman in almost the same way. Beating them till they were almost dead and then stabbing them. Sara's lucky you got there when you did, otherwise she'd be dead right now."
He pressed his hands tighter against her back and she shut up. "He didn't beat the others nearly as badly," he stated.
"Why do Sara differently?" Warrick asked, entering the break room with watery eyes and pursed lips. He was fighting off tears.
Grissom tried to shrug in a concerned nature, but it didn't work. "I don't know. Maybe because she ruined his plans, or because she had been trying to protect Michelle before she died... Murderers work in complicated ways."
Catherine had moved to hug Warrick, and they were both standing in the doorway looking at him. "You're going to go see her again soon, right?" Catherine asked.
"Well, yes. But right now I have a trial to go to."
Harry Lot was found guilty of two counts of third-degree murder and one count of attempted murder. He was sentenced to a life on death row. He would be given the death penalty, and would never see the light of another day. In spite of all this, Grissom was still angry with him and still burned with a hatred for him that consumed every part of his being.
He allowed himself to walk out of the courtroom and get into his car, to drive to the hospital. On the way there, he hummed songs in his head to keep his mind off of why he was going to the hospital, why he felt he constantly needed to be there, why her well-being was the only thing he worried about nowadays.
She wasn't just Sara anymore, he realized with a heavy sigh. She was so much more. So much more than the fresh-faced, nervous college student he had met seven years ago. She had proved herself to be a beautiful, intoxicating woman. He had known a lot of women in his lifetime, but none of them were like Sara. None of them had her power. The power to change him.
At the hospital, reaching down to stroke her cheek, he realized suddenly that he was crying. Bursting with this new realization, he prayed even harder for her to wake up. If he thought about it too much, he would never have the nerve to tell her. And he needed to tell her.
"Please Sara, wake up." Slowly he took one of her small hands in his larger one. It felt strange to touch her without getting a reaction from her. "Sara," he said again. Still she didn't move. He sighed, sitting down in the chair beside her hospital bed. "This is just like you. You'll wake up when you're ready, not when I'm ready." He thought he saw one of her eyelids flutter, but he was mistaken.
"Dr. Grissom?" He turned to see Sara's doctor in the doorway. "You're going to be in for a long wait. That morphine won't wear off for another couple of hours."
"I'll wait," he said.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah," Grissom said, sighing. He stroked her knuckles with his index finger. "I'm sure."
Thanks: Whoo! Thanks to all you betas again!! Notes: Second-to-last chapter. I'm kind of excited about how this chapter ends up. I know no one else really cares, but I do. G
Grissom didn't think he had ever driven so fast. Once his senses had cleared, he had called Brass and told him he needed backup, that as soon as they were done arresting this Romano guy he wanted them at the Lot house, ready to arrest Harry. He wouldn't let the thought that was in the back of his mind seep to the front. What if Harry had murdered more than two women by now?
The world around him was still playing in slow motion. A soft thumping sounded from behind his eyes, and he realized sleepily that it was the blood pounding through his head. He passed a red Honda, two blue Cavaliers, and a white Chevette.
He saw Brass' car in the rearview mirror and barely heard his cell phone ring. Brass told him he'd be right behind him, that he'd go with Grissom to the Lot residence to see if Harry was still there. One of the squad cars had gone back to the police station to put Harry's accomplice behind bars. In what seemed like a dream, Grissom heard Brass whisper through the phone, "One down, one to go."
After what seemed like hours, he arrived at the Lot residence, the cool grey of the house shining out at him, blinding him with its light. Brass had gotten caught behind a red light but Grissom knew somehow that he close by, that he'd be here soon. He squinted out of fear or something else, pulled into the driveway, and, stumbling on his way, finally made it to the door.
He pulled his gun out. Even as scared as he was, he wasn't stupid. His own life didn't matter now, it was all about Sara, about making sure she was OK. He knew there wasn't any time to waste now, Harry could have already killed her, and this wasn't the time to reprimand himself for possibly over-exaggerating.
She felt a thump against her skull. Oddly, it was painless at first, until she regained consciousness and was faced with the ugly expression of Harry Lot looming in front of her. He had his hands planted firmly on her shoulders and had smashed her head against the wall behind her...
The aching pain took her breath away, and she realized with horrified fear that he was going to knee her in the stomach again. He kept saying the same thing over and over again, but it was inaudible to her. The edges of her mind were fuzzy and she found she was having a hard time standing up.
The light in the room dimmed as her consciousness began to fade away once again, and then a loud shot rang through the air and her attacker jerked back with extreme ferocity, crying out in pain.
He shot him in the arm. He didn't know why; he had a clear shot of his back and he could have killed him, but he shot him in the arm. Harry bent over and grabbed his elbow, the expression on his face showing the amount of pain the shot from Grissom's gun had inflicted upon him.
Before he could say or do anything else, Brass came into the house from behind him and immediately began to arrest Harry. Only half-listening to the world around him, Grissom walked up to Sara at what could be considered a quick pace, bending down to put two fingers against her neck.
"She's alive," he stated simply, maybe for Brass to hear, maybe for himself to hear. He realized then that she was breathing, the shallow breaths causing her chest to slightly rise and fall. He thanked God, then got out his cell phone and immediately dialed 911. Brass looked at him sympathetically while leading a wincing Harry out the door.
Sara was laying down on the ground, her face turned to the side, revealing an ugly slash that was bleeding profusely. His eyes scanned down the rest of her body. Her shirt was ripped in several places, revealing either ugly bruises or bright red slashes, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that none of her clothing was removed, ruling out the possibility of rape. Just below her knee was a bloody mess of ripped skin and ligaments. He knew he had to stop the bleeding, but looking around, he saw nothing to wrap the wound in. His mind was racing, tears were forming in his eyes. Looking at her face, he saw the consequence of every mistake he had ever made with her.
Just then, the door opened and Ecklie walked in. "Morning Gil," he said amiably, casting a horrified glance at the battered body of Sara lying beside the bed.
"You got here awful fast, Conrad," Grissom said, clearing his throat to rid his voice of tears.
"Only as fast as I always do. Brass called me about twenty minutes ago and told me about Michelle, but Sara..." His eyes betrayed the fact that he didn't know about what had happened. Casting his eyes to the floor, he moved to the dead body of Michelle and began to process the scene almost immediately. "I know I don't have to ask you this, Gil, but you didn't touch anything, did you?"
Grissom only shook his head, stroking Sara's cheek as he watched her breathing. "Just her." On a look from Ecklie, he elaborated, "Sara, I mean."
Ecklie nodded, dusting the contents of the bedside table for fingerprints. "The ambulance will be here soon, Gil." Glancing at Sara's open leg wound, he frowned. "Haven't you got anything to wrap that up with?"
"No, and I'm not going to contaminate the scene by taking something from here." He motioned to the space around them. He thought for a second, then from behind his shoulder Grissom saw the striped overshirt Ecklie had been wearing only seconds before.
"Use this. I was hot, anyway," Ecklie said, and offered a tiny smile. Grissom just nodded, dumbfounded, and proceeded to wrap her leg tightly with the thin cotton fabric.
The ambulance arrived minutes later, a crew of suited men bursting into the house and immediately attending to Sara. They lifted her onto a cot and rolled her out, a concerned Grissom following them with a frown and a hand on her face.
"She's going to be OK," Grissom stated, not really wanting to hear what they would have to say about that. A young woman smiled at him and nodded.
"She'll be fine, Dr. Grissom. We just have to get her to the hospital as soon as possible and stabilize her condition." Then, looking at the worry lines on his forehead, she added, "Did you want to ride along?"
He didn't answer, just climbed into the back of the ambulance van with Sara's cot and thanked the woman. Sara's face looked abnormally peaceful and calm, and Grissom watched as the paramedics worked on her.
"Why don't you talk to her, Dr. Grissom?" one of them asked. "Sometimes it helps."
Grissom started to say, "I don't think I'd be comfortable..." but instead he stopped and nodded, taking one of her hands in his and clearing his throat. "Hey, Sara."
"How is she?" Catherine asked immediately when Grissom entered the breakroom later that day.
He smiled slightly, nodded, and said, "She's OK. Not great, but OK. They've put her on so much morphine that she couldn't wake up even if she wanted to." He looked up at her nervous face, shrugged and said, "That's all I can tell you for now Cath." "How bad is the damage? Did he break anything?" Her voice was louder now, more calm.
"Yes. Several things, actually. Two ribs, her left arm and her collarbone."
"Oh God."
"Yeah. I know." He watched as a silent tear slipped down her cheek, but didn't move until she fell against him, sobbing into his shirt. "She'll be OK, Catherine." He didn't believe it himself, but it helped to say it out loud.
Through her tears she spoke, "Do you have any idea how close he came to killing her, Grissom? He killed two other woman in almost the same way. Beating them till they were almost dead and then stabbing them. Sara's lucky you got there when you did, otherwise she'd be dead right now."
He pressed his hands tighter against her back and she shut up. "He didn't beat the others nearly as badly," he stated.
"Why do Sara differently?" Warrick asked, entering the break room with watery eyes and pursed lips. He was fighting off tears.
Grissom tried to shrug in a concerned nature, but it didn't work. "I don't know. Maybe because she ruined his plans, or because she had been trying to protect Michelle before she died... Murderers work in complicated ways."
Catherine had moved to hug Warrick, and they were both standing in the doorway looking at him. "You're going to go see her again soon, right?" Catherine asked.
"Well, yes. But right now I have a trial to go to."
Harry Lot was found guilty of two counts of third-degree murder and one count of attempted murder. He was sentenced to a life on death row. He would be given the death penalty, and would never see the light of another day. In spite of all this, Grissom was still angry with him and still burned with a hatred for him that consumed every part of his being.
He allowed himself to walk out of the courtroom and get into his car, to drive to the hospital. On the way there, he hummed songs in his head to keep his mind off of why he was going to the hospital, why he felt he constantly needed to be there, why her well-being was the only thing he worried about nowadays.
She wasn't just Sara anymore, he realized with a heavy sigh. She was so much more. So much more than the fresh-faced, nervous college student he had met seven years ago. She had proved herself to be a beautiful, intoxicating woman. He had known a lot of women in his lifetime, but none of them were like Sara. None of them had her power. The power to change him.
At the hospital, reaching down to stroke her cheek, he realized suddenly that he was crying. Bursting with this new realization, he prayed even harder for her to wake up. If he thought about it too much, he would never have the nerve to tell her. And he needed to tell her.
"Please Sara, wake up." Slowly he took one of her small hands in his larger one. It felt strange to touch her without getting a reaction from her. "Sara," he said again. Still she didn't move. He sighed, sitting down in the chair beside her hospital bed. "This is just like you. You'll wake up when you're ready, not when I'm ready." He thought he saw one of her eyelids flutter, but he was mistaken.
"Dr. Grissom?" He turned to see Sara's doctor in the doorway. "You're going to be in for a long wait. That morphine won't wear off for another couple of hours."
"I'll wait," he said.
"You're sure?"
"Yeah," Grissom said, sighing. He stroked her knuckles with his index finger. "I'm sure."