A Trial of the Heart: Chapter One
Authors: Rouch and Teenwitch
Summary: The course of true love never did run smooth. GSR. Dark.
Rating: M
A/N: I would like to thank Jess "LaughAtClouds" for her suggestions when I was shaping this story. (Rouch)
Flashbacks are in bold. All thoughts will be in italics.
Spoilers: General Season 5 spoilers.
Disclaimer: CSI is the property of CBS, Alliance Atlantis, blah blah blah. In other words, we have no claim on them.
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It seems like every day's the same
and I'm left to discover on my own
It seems like everything is gray
and there's no colour to behold
They say it's over and I'm fine again, yeah
Try to stay sober feels like I'm dying here
-'Fine Again' Seether
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Copper, the omnipresent stench of blood, foul and suffocating in its intensity.
Darkness, pervading her senses, wrapping richly around her bodyan intangible force concealing her tormentor instead of offering her its solace.
Metal grating on metal, chains rattlingthe resonant, echoing sound of failure and evolving despair.
A voice, suddenly low and sinister, whispering through her narrowed world of fear; "Tell me who, and this can all go away."
Sara jolted; sheets bunching around her legs as she shot bolt upright in her bed. Irrational terror gripped her consciousness, and her eyes slowly widened as they readjusted to the dimness of the room.
Her breathing came out in harsh, pained gasps, and she clenched the side of her mattress, slowly relinquishing her grip. She unconsciously slid a finger over the thin, shallow cut that had almost healed over her cheek, and scanned the room with instinctual, fearful vigilance.
Dim shadows jumped out at her, taunting her with their indistinct outlines, and at last she leaned over her nightstand, turning on the lamp. Her eyes drifted indolently over her digital clock face, and she noted the time. 9:15pm. Less than two hours until the start of shift.
Her first shift, for two weeks. She ran her hands over her hair, stringy and tangled from her perspiration, and slowly padded across the soft, beige carpet, intent on throwing herself directly into the shower, and washing away all remnants of her vivid nightmare.
The hot spray was scorching, and she gave herself a little too long to readjust the temperature, allowing it to momentarily scald her creamy white skin. It burned her still sensitive injuries and she winced, rubbing a spot slowly on her wrist.
Her first night in her own bed, in her own shower, and she thought she could erase what had happened completely. She thought the routine would wash away the lingering pain, force her to move forward.
They didn't think she was ready to return to work. She saw it in their drawn faces when she announced it in the hospital room, the fleeting glances they exchanged when they thought she wasn't paying attention.
They thought she was a ticking time bomb, and it was only a matter of time before her carefully repressed emotions broke free.
They were probably right.
She wrapped a towel around her; tying it loosely to avoid her injuries. Striding to stand in front of the frosty mirror she swiped a hand across the chilly surface to clear it.
She flinched when she saw her face, her pale, haunted features, the faint cuts and bruises that still blemished some of her face. Most of her injuries were internal, ones that couldn't be fixed by a brief stint in Desert Palms. They had not so subtly suggested she see a counsellor, but unlike last time, she steadfastly refused their kindly overtures. She had attended seven PEAP sessions, and they had never gotten to the true root of her problems, the reason she had such a blatant inability to get over her past.
And she didn't like psychologists.
She dressed herself with an inordinate amount of care, and after applying her makeup, examined herself once more in the mirror.
"When you look at yourself in the mirror, what do you see…?"She stepped abruptly away, moving swiftly through her kitchen and grabbing a few crackers on her way to the door. If anyone of them asked if she had eaten dinner that evening, she wouldn't have to lie about it.
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Grissom strode hesitantly down the corridor, nodding his head vaguely as several lab techs passed him, hesitantly welcoming him back.
He spotted Greg in the DNA lab, chatting tensely with Mia, and he strode on past, not in the mood to deal with any of his colleagues' faltering attempts at conversation.
His office loomed ahead, dimly lit in its security, and he unconsciously quickened his pace, closing the door gratefully behind him. His eyes scanned the inner realms of the room, taking comfort in its familiarity.
She wasn't here yet. He had looked for her car in the parking lot, and the dark blue Audi A4 was markedly absent.
He drew in a deep breath, striding around his desk and slumping firmly in his leather chair.
Even if their tentative relationship prior to… the incident could be something to compare to, things had deteriorated rapidly between them since. How could they return to normal after what happened? How could anything return to normal?
For the first time in his very long career, it had taken a considerable amount of effort to convince himself to come to work this morning. The only real motivating factor was… that she would be here.
She had isolated herself from him for the last two weeks, barely talking to him at the hospital, rarely returning his calls, and she had accepted Nick's ride home from the hospital before giving him a chance to offer.
He heaved a deep sigh, unconsciously allowing his eyes to dart down over his wrists, where several bruises still discoloured the skin.
"It's ironic, isn't it?"He snapped away from his desk, lowering his hand abruptly to his side. That voice would haunt him for the rest of his life.
A slow, tentative knock sounded at his door, breaking him from his thoughts.
"Yes?"
Catherine's blonde head peeked uncertainly inside, biting her lower lip when their eyes connected. "Hey, you".
He smiled weakly, knowing that he was unable to reassure her like she wanted. "Hey, Catherine".
"Glad to see you back".
"Yeah."
"You probably haven't checked the memo on your desk yet…"
He glanced down, spotting the bright yellow post-it note attached to a case folder, sighing when he realised she knew him all too well.
Catherine continued, "But Ecklie's given you strict assignments. I think he wants our teams to collaborate temporarily, at least until…" She shrugged, opening the door the rest of the way to further her trek into the room.
He knew Catherine had taken charge of the two shifts in his absence, and it bothered him to have her question his ability.
"I have Greg working a B&E, pretty standard stuff. I thought maybe Sara could help him on it, just ease her way back into the job with some teaching."
Grissom met her gaze, pursing his lips with vague frustration. Like he wouldn't know what was best for Sara right now.
"Fine", he said flatly.
She nodded, sensing his annoyance and clearing her throat with a little more reticence. "Uh, Ecklie seems to think… it might be best for you to just consult for now… maybe catch up on some paperwork instead of doing fieldwork…"
He had expected as much, but it still irritated him to hear it. "I'm sure I can handle that".
She paused, folding her arms slowly in front of her chest, tilting her head apologetically. "Gil… He's just worried about you".
He never thought she would feed him that line, but there was a first time for everything. "I'm not that far gone, Catherine", he informed her emphatically.
She smirked, a vague, wan motion. "Right", she conceded. "Well, he's worried about the lab, at any rate, no real change there. But maybe it's for the best".
He nodded, just looking down, not arguing with her. How could he?
Catherine tapped her fingers absently on her forearm. "Have you, um, seen Sara yet?" she prompted in trepidation.
He shook his head, still unable to meet her gaze. "No".
He saw her nod in the corner of his eye, and start to back into the corridor. "Okay, well. Gil…" She waited until he looked up then, and smiled softly, eyes sad. "It's really nice to have you back".
He waited until she was gone, and closed his eyes, resting his thumb and forefinger despairingly over his eyes.
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Pain, sharp and overwhelming, consuming her body until she thought she might explode…
Lights, bright and staggering in their intensity, like beacons of heaven inviting her home…
"Sara? Sara?"
Sara blinked, eyes darting quickly over Greg, as he eyed her with conflicted alarm. She forced a thin smile, barely tweaking her lips, and he continued looking at her.
"Sorry. I just spaced out."
Greg stared at her like she had lost her mind, and she thought she probably had.
"Sara, maybe you should… go home."
"I'm not going home, Greg!" she snapped, a little louder than intended.
He blinked, flinching slightly, but pity immediately overwhelmed the hurt in his eyes and she drew in a deep, calming breath, willing herself regain her composure "Where were we?" she said, ignoring his concern.
He cleared his throat, pointing hesitantly down at the crime scene photograph laid out between them, reluctantly following her lead to overlook her disruption. "Well, I… I think the burglar must have entered the scene here, because the screen was missing from that window. He tripped over a vase before he could take much, and the noise must have spooked him so much he cut loose kinda quick".
Sara silently allowed him to run through the case with her, inwardly wondering if it was really necessary for her to guide him on it. It obviously wasn't. He had a pretty good handle on what was going on. They were using it as an excuse to coddle her, using her prior mentoring of Greg as a cover. It was just another way for them to watch her, and keep her out of the mayhem. A job like theirs wasn't exactly ideal for traumatic recovery.
Greg cleared away the pictures, faintly hinting for a coffee break. She knew it was for her benefit, and didn't bother calling him on it. Shift wasn't far from over, and just being back in the lab was draining all of her energy. She endured the pity filled looks, whispered glances, and the hushed conversations that conveniently stopped when she neared. It was as if the lab was waiting with baited breath for that inevitable moment when Sara and Grissom's paths would cross. It was the kind of grotesque fascination people had for a train crash. They shouldn't look, but they couldn't look away.
On her way to the break room, the moment everyone seemed to be waiting for happened.
Greg had disappeared to retrieve some samples from trace before joining her, and the corridor was mostly empty. Grissom appeared from nowhere, striding towards her with his attention focused distractedly on a file in his hands, and her heart leapt painfully in her chest.
As if on cue, his head lifted from the casefile, and their eyes met across the hallway.
"Look at him."That voice taunted her.
Sara stopped, caught in the unexpected tension. She found it suddenly very difficult to move, eyes fixed waveringly on his. He swallowed, hesitantly slowing his pace, eyeing her as if he expected her to break.
She could feel her breath coming out in slow, uneven gasps, and her hands quivered at her sides. She stared at him, eyes tracing the faint gash mark that lined his neck, the uncertain, sparking blue of his deep crystal eyes, and she couldn't… she just couldn't… She turned abruptly, shoving her way blindly past an anonymous intern and bursting into the ladies room, ignoring how crazy the move must have made her look.
She drew in a deep, unsteady breath, hazily aware that the room was empty as she paced in front of the mirror, and finally stopped to brace herself on the hand basin, staring dully at her reflection.
He brought it all back. All of it, every infinite, excruciatingly heart stopping moment. She couldn't look at him without it flashing before her with a startling, vivid accuracy.
I can't handle this. I'm not strong enough. I just can't.
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