Title: Reverie
Author: Kristen999
Category: Drama/ Angst
Spoilers: Grave Danger
Disclaimer: All rights belong to CBS and all their fine writers. Please don't sue. This is just for fun.
Summary: She has to push aside all dark thoughts for later. She can only focus on one thing right now. Sara POV. Post "Grave Danger". N/S
Note: I think I broke my own promise on no more post GD shorts. I lied. I've never written Sara before and wanted to see if I could get into her head. My next big case file will have her as a supporting role, so I needed this as an exercise. Hope you like it. Any feedback is welcomed.
Sara shined her light over the passenger side door, looking for the slightest detail, the tiniest sign of blood. Nothing. Every inch of the door was spotless, not a spec of dust was even present. The vehicle had been sent to one of those high end cleaners, a new coat of pain, a nice shiny polish. She could eat breakfast on the surface without worry. She sprayed more luminol, hoping that the suspect's luck had finally run out. That the person in charge of Polish and Shine had gotten sloppy, perhaps in a tired mood, missed a spot.
Fate wasn't on her side.
She sighed audibly. Her ears perked up when she heard a familiar chuckle echo in the garage. She forced a smile, knowing who the owner of said laugh. She pulled herself in an upright position and faked an air of gruffness.
"What's so funny?"
Nick Stokes leaned on the other side of the classic Dodge, dressed in his coveralls for lab work. His perfect and charming smile was on full display. Whenever he gave her one of those dazzling grins, it was hard to keep her mask in place.
"Nothing," he said shaking his head, even though everything in his strut screamed the opposite. "It would seem you were hitting a dead end on your search."
He leaned across the hood of the car, his grin causing the laugh lines around his face to increase. On any other person such signs of aging were would be something to try to hide, but Sara had learned long ago, that Nick Stokes seemed to get better looking with age.
They were lines from a person who smiled often, and it suited him. His deep dark eyes sparkled with a sort of cockiness. It was times like these, that she really wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.
"This isn't some sort of silly bet with Warrick, Nicky. This is a serious case."
Nick tilted his head. A gesture he affected when he was trying to diffuse a situation he felt had gone too far. He cleared his throat and his face became more alert. "All right. You need some help?"
Sara fidgeted somewhat. She wanted the extra hand, but she didn't want to admit that she really needed the assistance. Certainly not after all the fuss she caused about taking this case on single handedly. Not after all the fun that was poked her way.
"As long as you're not here to gloat. Why don't you see if you can find any signs of blood on the inside seat. I mean if he purposely had ran over his neighbor's dog and then hid the body, then maybe he loaded it inside the car first before he disposed of it."
Nick strolled over next to her and entered the passenger side. It was the most obvious place to stash an animal carcass.
Sara didn't make a single comment. She knew she had made a big deal over this case. Had gone a bit over the deep end once again. Some thought she was a tad obsessive, Nick had even called her on her single mindedness over it. She told everyone off, and declared that this case was hers to solve if no one else wanted to bother with such a senseless injustice.
She wasn't going to let Nick know she was relieved for the help. He sat in the car and closed the door. The slam echoing in the tiny facility.
"I understand why you're so desperate to solve this case. I mean taking out retribution on an innocent life that had nothing to do with a vendetta is very cruel."
Sara blinked at the sincerity of Nick's voice. She simply nodded.
Nick began spraying up the inside of the car. It wasn't like she hadn't all ready spent countless hours covering the tires, the hood, the entire outside of the classic car.
Dead ends all of them.
She felt her eyes drift over to Nick who worked intently on discovering a clue that she might have missed.
"You know suffocating an animal is the worst way to kill something. It heartless. A slow, torturous way to die."
Sara scrunched up her face as Nick. "The dog was run over Nick. Have you not been paying attention?"
The Texan continued to shine a light after he had misted the inside looking for blood. "Your lungs begin to burn as they try to suck in oxygen that's not there. Your heart starts beating faster, as if its going to burst out of your chest. While your body starts to starve for air."
Sara stared at her coworker, her own mind started to fill with a slight feeling of unease. A bit of unresolved anxiety.
Nick's jaw kept on moving back and fourth as he ignored the odd looks cast his way. "Your throat begins to close in on you, your head feels heavy, then tight like a vise. In fact it feels like it might implode, but that doesn't change the fact that your mind slowly begins to unravel. Weird images begin to flash in you mind...all of them almost scary in nature. You begin to wheeze and then your chest feels like its on fire."
"Stop it." Sara whispered.
Nick seemed too engrossed to hear her soft plea.
"Then you begin making these weird little noises as you gasp for breath." Nick looked up at her, his dark brown eyes, cold, lifeless.
Sara tried to open the door, but it was locked somehow. Nick looked at her with pity.
Sara started to bang on the car window. "Nick!"
Her friend of six years gazed back at her, his face a mask of defeat. His voice was thicker with his accent, but it was so much softer. "You feel yourself dying and there's nothing you can do to stop it. No one there to help you."
Sara started screaming. "Somebody help me!" She focussed her attention on the grim and pale face behind the window.
Nick put his left hand against the glass. "You...you...don't feel like you have any other choice." Nick's hand slid slightly, making a squeaking sound on the window. "Its a long painful death, Sara."
"Nick!" Sara shouted, the sound of her voice filling the empty room. "What are you doing?"
Fear engulfed ever fiber of her being. "Please, hold on!"
Nick's voice faltered, it choked up as he pulled his gun out from somewhere. "I really tried..."
Nick fought back the tears that spilled down his reddened face.
Sara slammed both fists against the window. She clawed at the top edge, in between the door frame and open little space, in desperation. Her fingers hurt as she tried to force the window down.
"Nooooooo!" She screamed, her throat constricting painfully at the force used.
Nick took his gun with trembling fingers, and placed it under his chin. His beautiful face was marred by angry welts and countless swelling bites.
He wheezed, his now ashen face in stark comparison to the dark blue interior part of the car.
"I'm sorry... I couldn't... wait any... longer." He cried, sucking in short, panicky breaths.
Sara yelled with all her might, her voice cracking from the strain. "Nicky!"
Nick squeezed his eyes shut. She saw him count to three silently, his cracked lips moving painfully.
Then he pulled the trigger.
Her eyes flew open, her breath caught in her chest. At first Sara thought it was her own scream that ripped her from the nightmare. With her adrenaline rush wearing off, she took her slightly trembling hands and brushed back some of the hair that slipped down her face. Her forehead was slightly moist from perspiration. Her night T-shirt clung to her body and she tried to scout up further in the bed.
Realization dawned on her, when she felt a weight on her lap. She looked down in the darkness of the room to see Nick's head laying on top of her. His body was shaking, his arms flayed around, as he tried to swipe at invisible ants that were no longer biting his flesh.
Sara quickly gathered her frantic thoughts, the remnants of the gruesome dream still fresh in her frazzled mind. She grabbed Nick's arms and placed them on his chest. She didn't apply to much pressure as not to add to any kind of confinement. She placed her hands around his sweat drenched undershirt and hugged him gently.
"Shhhhs, Nicky. It's okay." She whispered.
He continued to thrash slightly, he groaned and sobbed in his sleepless nightmare.
Sara tried to wake him calmly, she certainly didn't want to startle him even more. She knew the drill. It was day four and Nick had yet been capable to go through the night without some horrendous dream, no matter how many medications coursed through his veins. She usually woke him up and let him ride it out.
It happened every night no matter who was staying with him. Sometimes it was Warrick in a pull a way bed, sometimes Greg in the other room. They had perfected the best way to comfort him after the third night.
She gently rubbed her fingers up and down his arms as light as possible. She didn't want to infect the numerous bites and blisters that were still healing.
However, she started hear him gasp for air and her concern morphed into worry.
"Nick, wake up. You're safe...you're home."
His eyes opened, unfocused, unsure. His breathing so rapid she was afraid he might pass out right there.
She peered down over him, not caring if she was giving him a small peep show. There was no way he'd notice.
She stoked his hair for a moment telling him platitudes in a soft, but distinct voice.
"I---I--Can't---breath," he choked out.
Sara placed her hands under his armpits and pulled him up. She propped him awkwardly against her chest. "Yes, you can, Nick. Just wait for it."
Nick hacked slightly, his ragged breathing punctuated by a strained struggle for air.
"Easy." She admonished.
Nick's breaths began to come in and out somewhat more regularly. His body still trembled, his own undershirt soaked from sweat. He was cold and that only contributed to the shaking.
"It's only a dream," she continued to whisper. She tried with great difficulty to keep her emotion in check. She needed to be the collected one. The strong one here.
Nick seemed to relax a little, he clasped his hand in hers. Sara felt her own calm returning.
Nick shifted his body so he wasn't crushing the woman beneath him. He slowly lifted his head and propped himself up till he was sitting right next to her. The traumatized man took in the room as he looked around, his gaze taking in the empty space. He swiped at his eyes and coughed a couple of times.
"I-I'm sorry." He stammered through a hoarse voice.
Sara turned his head towards her. "What was the rule if I stayed here?"
Nick gave her a slight grin. "No taking advantage of you while in my company?" He cracked.
Sara snorted. It felt good to break the tension. "No, wiseass. No apologizing."
Nick half choked, half chuckled. "Yeah."
In was obvious that Nick was exhausted. The criminalist had not strung together any serious amount of sleep since his abduction. His red rimmed eyes couldn't be hidden by the shadows of the room. Nick leaned his weary head against the bed board.
Sara willed the semi-imagined memories at bay. She squeezed her eyes tightly, and moved Nick's head towards that small soft fleshy area between her shoulder and chest. She concentrated and both their frantic breathing slowed almost in unison.
Sara adjusted her arms, as she kept them firmly wrapped around his broad shoulders. Subconsciously she let one hand briefly slip down to draw the blanket that slipped away, around his waist to cover up his black boxers. Her mind was too caught up in his scent, one that was tinted with sweat, fear, and the remains of his after shave. He actually wasn't allowed to trim his scruff or it would irritate the skin that was still agitated by bites. But it made him feel more at home, more normal to splash some on...to retain something familiar.
She never asked him to talk about the nightly terrors. It was usually about the box. Nick usually bolted awake when he felt the Plexiglas close in, or when he saw his friends trapped instead. Or sometimes it was the ants, his nightmare so vivid that he swore he felt the sting of every dam bite. Lately it was about the gun...his horror of blowing his brains out, to only find out he had not succeeded in killing himself. Only in damaging his body, but yet remained awake to endure the torture.
Sara kissed the back of his neck gently. He'd just exhaust himself back into a fruitless sleep, or perhaps he'd whisper about parts of the dream, where she would have to strain to hear. She wondered what this time would bring.
It would be in his best interest if she got out of bed and grabbed some more of his pills. Sedate the shit out of him so he could just go in that zone where his mind was so over medicated that he would just go in to Never Never Land...a place void of anything.
A peaceful zone in between the nightmares and the panic attacks, the uncomfortable silences, the trembling hands, and the times where she felt so inadequate that she could scream. Perhaps she could try to catch a few Z's herself. But just as the thought entered her brain, it disappeared. It was selfish and wouldn't help him one bit.
Instead she allowed herself to slip into the role of comforter. The position that she longed for so long ago, the same feeling that always was so out of reach in her time of need. Because there was never anyone around to give it to her.
Sara swallowed, and half choked on a cough. Nick mumbled in a half daze, incoherent and bordering on babble. She kissed him again, several soft ones to the top of his head, his face, and the ends of his fingers.
She strained to listen to what he was going on about incessantly this time. Little pieces of words about an autopsy table, and a hack saw. She squeezed her eyes shut even further, just more details to add to her own catalogue of terrors. Filed away for when she actually crawled into her own bed, her own world of sleeplessness, except she would be alone...in an empty bed.
The shaking subsided. It always did. With her help, Nick moved towards his beat up pillow. Sara moved down further as well and laid her head on his shoulder. She allowed one arm to drape around his chest. and snuggled closer to his body. He was beginning to warm back up, the icy terror finally leaving.
Sara traced slight circles over his chest as she drifted off semi-content to his breathing. She entwined her fingers in his and both longing for the other in the desperation of human contact and comfort.
Nick drifted off first. She allowed herself a few moments of solace. It was going to be long night, filled with several more instances of this very moment. Tomorrow it might be Catherine who tries to reassure him, or even Grissom in his own way stoic way.
Tonight. Well, tonight she was going to watch over him. Make sure the phantoms of the night would stay at bay while on her watch. She wouldn't allow her mind to drift to other imaginary situations. No amount of what ifs were allowed in. Maybe one day, she could imagine herself in Nick Stoke's bed, sweaty, and exhausted from something much more primal, much more pleasurable.
However tonight. Tonight she was just was want Nick needed. Her own nightmares aside, she could deal with them later.
She always did.
Fini
The long Grave Danger story that Shacky and I have been working on will start to be posted this week.