Chapter Ten: NightTimeFears

Sara was asleep when Greg finallyarrived back at the cabin, the two Portland CSI agents saw him to his door, before heading back to their waiting chopper. Greg had thanked them thoroughly for their company; it had taken his mind off of the incident for the three miles, making the journey much quicker than it would have been if he had gone alone.

Not wanting to wake her, Greg stayed quiet as he possible could, spending his time straightening the place up, knowing that if he didn't, then Sara would, and Sara was in no condition to clean.

Sara slept the rest of the day, and clear through the night. She was still sleeping when Greg woke up, checking the clock on the table. It was near seven in the morning, and he shook his head, he hadn't intended to sleep that night, he wanted to keep an eye on Sara.

Stretching, he made his way over to her, sitting down on the edge of the bed and just watching her for a moment. He could see that her cuts had been cleaned, and though they looked better, an uneven bruising had settled across her face; her left eye swollen, and a cut above her lip.

Not that he looked any better; his own face had bruises running the length of his cheekbone, and just above his left eye. All in all the pair looked as if they had fought each other.

Sara shifted, rolling to her side, lying like that for a moment. Then she groaned, opening her eyes, watching him for a minute before closing them. "What time is it?" she asked him softly.

"Seven, give or take a few minutes"

"In the morning?" she asked groggily. Opening her eyes again she watched him, and neither spoke for a while.

"How are you feeling?" Greg asked, breaking the prolonged silence.

"Ugh," Sara answered, provoking a chuckle from both of them. "Better than before I guess, but still, pretty much ugh."

"You think you can hold anything down?" Greg asked, smiling.

"Why," she wondered, "what did you make?"

"Nothing," he admitted, "I was thinking about going to the diner again, they weren't too bad."

"I suppose," Sara stated, yawning, "I'm pretty hungry right now."

Greg nodded, "Only if you think you can eat. I can make something here for you if you want."

Sara waved him off, sitting up slowly. "No, no, I want to go. Maybe some fresh air will help."

Greg smiled, "Okay, okay. Just take your time getting ready, we don't have to hurry."

She nodded, getting all the way up now. She was still lightheaded, and she rested a moment before moving on. Greg made certain that she would be okay before letting her go, and moving to get ready himself. She took longer than normal; the temperature had taken another nosedive over night, and was now in single digits for the highs. It was one thing Sara would be grateful to get rid of when the returned home.

The diner was busy that morning, more so than Greg thought it would be. If had known that it would have been like this, he wouldn't of suggested coming. But Sara had enjoyed the change. She was feeling much better than before and getting outside had helped clear her head some.

They had already ordered their meals when Greg excused himself to the front to get some more coffee. He was pouring it when Jim came up alongside him, getting his own cup as well.

"How's the hand?" Jim asked him, nodding to him as a greeting.

"You heard about that too?" Greg asked, chuckling inwardly.

"News travels fast in this town," Jim said, to which Greg nodded.

"So I've heard."

"You ever drink?" Jim asked him suddenly.

Greg watched him for a moment, before stirring his coffee with a spoon. "Sometimes, why?"

"You do know that alcoholic beverages are not allowed in this area during these training sessions, right?"

"With all due respect sir," Greg stated, "I haven't had anything to drink for a few months now."

Jim nodded, but continued on. "You ever loose your temper then?"

"Why all these questions?"

"As a Detective, I notice things that other people don't. It is my job. I'm only trying to protect certain people."

"You think I need protection?" Greg wondered, lifting an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coffee. Jim reached around him for the creamer as he continued.

"I'm referring to your partner, Sara."

"Sara needs protection? From what?"

"From people like you," Jim stated, causing a bitter scoff from Greg.

"Why do you say something like that?" Greg didn't like the direction that the conversation was going in.

"You don't actually expect me to believe she got those bruises herself, do you?"

"For a town in which words travel so quickly I'm surprised you haven't heard about our accident on the trail," Greg commented dryly.

"I heard," Jim stated, "But I've seen enough abuse cases to know better."

Greg shook his head angrily. "I'm done with the conversation," he was heading back towards Sara when Jim caught his arm, redirecting his attention as he leaned in closer to young CSI.

"I will find out what's going on, and you'll find yourself dealing with abuse charges."

"I told you that I was done with this conversation," Greg said coldly, glaring at him evenly. "Now, if you don't let me go, I will file a harassment charge."

Jim straightened up, letting go of him. Picking up his own coffee, Jim nodded at him as he walked by. "Enjoy the rest of your day Sanders," he said, his tone flat.

Greg was nearly fuming by the time he reached the table, sitting down with a heavy sigh. Sara looked up, surprised, stopping in the middle of taking another bite of her own food. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said shortly, resting his head against his good hand as he stared ahead, particularly at nothing. His hunger had suddenly vanished, his mood incensed.

Sara frowned at him, "You expect me to buy that?" she asked, putting her fork down on her napkin. "What happened?"

"He thinks I hit you," Greg spat out, drawing in deep breath to try and calm himself down.

Sara nearly laughed, "Who?"

"The detective, Jim what's his face," Greg let out stressed sigh as he rubbed his face.

"He can't be serious," Sara told him softly.

"Oh he is," Greg answered, looking back up there, "he's filing charges."

"On what evidence? Because I have a few bruises after falling down a mountain? I'm lucky I didn't break my neck."

Greg nodded silently, but didn't comment. Sara shook her head, "Don't worry about it," she told him, "The medics checked me out, Stiles was there, they know what happened."

"Sara," Greg lowered his voice, watching her, "I can loose my job over this, if files are charged against me, and later we prove that it never happened, I can still get fired."

"Grissom would never fire you over that Greg," Sara said quickly, defending their boss.

"It's not Grissom I'm worried about, it's Ecklie," he pushed his plate away, knowing that he would never be able to finish eating now.

"Come on Greg, how many people back at the lab would actually even think that you could possibly hit me?"

"The people back at the lab are not the ones who would be looking over the charges Sara. I don't want to talk about this, it's just," he let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "I can't handle it right now."

Sara nodded, sitting up some. Her appetite was gone now as well, as she pushed her own plate towards the end of the table next to Greg's. The two split the cost of the uneaten lunch, and left, heading back to their cabin where they spent the rest of the day.

The soft humming of the clock was the only sounds that night, minus the gentle breathing. The red numbers on the face indicated that it was just past midnight; the two had gone to sleep around nine. Sara was now awake, leaning against the headboard with her knees drawn up under her chin, a heavy blanket draped around her slim frame.

The numbers changed again; she had been watching them change every sixty seconds since an hour after turning in for the night. She couldn't get past how red they were, red like the blood…

She shivered, pulling the blankets tighter. It wasn't the first time she had nightmares, she had been having them ever since she and Greg were taken hostage. Sometimes she was able to sleep the whole day, given enough time to get ready for work. But there were times she would have several a day. None were very long, but they were vivid enough to keep her awake the rest of the time. But there was one that occurred more often than all the others.

It wasn't the same exact thing every time she had it, little variations would occur, but they all ended the same way. The gun would fire, and there would be Greg, just out of her reach on the floor, his eyes open slightly as he bled to death.

Sara covered her mouth as she let out a choked cry. Greg shifted softly in his own bed, and Sara held her breath until she was certain he wasn't going to wake up. Shakily she made her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her moments before getting sick. She was only thankful there wasn't that much to get rid of; granted she had hardly eaten since the last time she got sick, up on the trail the day before.

Leaning against the sink, Sara splashed a few handfuls of water on her face, washing her mouth out at the same time. She glanced up into the mirror that hung just inches in front of her, trembling softly. Her face was pale, making the bruising stand out it sharply in contrast. Her hair was disheveled due to her new, sudden habit of leaving a warm cap on her head during the day. Tracing her fingertips across the bruising and cuts, Sara let out a soft groan, ignorant of how terrible she actually looked until now.

Sliding to the floor, Sara rested against the cold tiled wall, shivering as she curled in on herself. She felt like she was going to get sick again, but not wanting to move she just laid her head down on her arms, closing her eyes as she fought off the nauseating feeling.

Her shoulders shook lightly as silent tears slid down her cheeks. She hated feeling like this, feeling so weak, and unable to control her emotions. Half the time she felt sick, the pressure of not sleeping and the thoughts overwhelming her at times. Stress was now an even bigger factor in her life. Sure, she had been stressed before, work was the main cause, but now with another source of stress from her nightmares was proving to be too much for her to handle.

After a while, Sara felt well enough to head back to bed, though she doubted any sleep would come. Shivering, she shut the lights off behind her as she stumbled through the dark.

"Sara?"

She came to a stop as Greg called her name, arms folded across her chest. She watched as he scooted over closer to the wall, pulling the blankets back as he sat up some. She hesitated a moment, before making her way slowly over to the bed, crawling under the covers next to him.

Now eyelevel with Greg, Sara could see the strain in his own eyes, suggesting that he hadn't had a restful night either. Greg reached an arm around her, rubbing her back in small circular motions. "Another nightmare?" he asked softly.

She only stared at him, her mouth open slightly. How did he know? She hadn't told anyone about them.

"I have them too, you know," he told her, as if seeing the questioning in her eyes. "You want to talk about it?"

Sara shook her head, staring up at the ceiling. If she couldn't even think about them without getting sick, there was no way possible that she would be able to talk about. Sara expected Greg to prompt her, but was surprised when she felt him nod.

"Okay," he said gently. "Try and get some sleep," he started, ignoring her quiet protest. "I'll wake you if you have another one."

She turned towards him, "You would…do that?" she asked softly.

Greg nodded, rubbing her face gently, "I promise," he told her, "just try and get some rest."

Sara nodded in return as she laid her head against Greg's chest, relaxing into his hold as he continued to rub her back. She was exhausted, but unsure if she could actually fall asleep again. It was, however, the first time in many months that she felt safe once again.

TBC