"Hey, Greg."
The casual greeting sounded wrong to Warrick. In fact everything seemed wrong. People still bustled about the lab. There was still the familiar buzz of computers; the distant sounds of telephones ringing. Life hadn't stopped for Sara.
Warrick felt hatred towards those people who were still living as they had been doing 24 hours ago. For him, and the other members of the team, life had been turned upside down in the past day. How could it be that for some people the earth was still turning as normal? The moment they had heard the words, 'He's taken Sara', leave Grissom's mouth, time had frozen for Warrick and the rest of the team. And whilst they all felt helpless and emotionally drained, it was up to them to start the clock again.
"Please tell me you've got some news for us."
"Nothing except that you can now be 99 sure that Philip Bowran killed Jennifer Thornton. He wasn't a careful killer. There were traces all over the place."
"Suggesting it was a crime of passion and anger, not a premeditated attack," Grissom added.
"Well that's just great," Nick began. "So now we know that the guy who has Sara is definitely a murderer, and that he kills when he gets angry. Just what we wanted to hear."
"At least it means he's probably not too careful. Sooner or later he'll leave something behind that'll take us too him."
"Sure. But unfortunately Sara can't afford for it to be later."
Look at you. Bruised and battered. Poor, silly Sara. I thought you knew better than to run. It looks like it will be harder than I thought to make you realise the truth. Because it is the truth. We are meant to be together. You just don't know it yet.
I didn't enjoy hurting you. It's awful to see someone that you love in pain. But it had to be done. You had to realise that there's no point in trying to escape. Fate brought us together and I'm not going to let anything take us apart.
"Hey, you guys, look at this."
It took only a matter of seconds for the whole team to gather around Catherine. Yet another two hours had passed in which they had examined every piece of evidence they could find and searched for any useful information in every possible database. And still there had been nothing. Hope had been fading by the second, and despondency beginning to settle in. Until now.
"There's a holiday home down on the coast, booked for two weeks under the name of P. Bowran. Sounds like he was planning a holiday."
"But he and Jennifer never made it," Grissom noted.
"It's doesn't seem that far to go for a holiday."
"All the same, it seems a shame to waste a nice trip."
"Secluded location, off the beaten track. Just the type of place you might go if you wanted to get away from everything."
"Well, as the saying goes, you can run, but you can't hide."
The team of CSIs burst into action. This had to be it. The lead they had been searching for. They weren't even considering the possibility it might not be.
"Sara, here we come."
When Sara came to for the second time in 24 hours, she felt worse than she ever had done in living memory. Her eyelids were bruised and swollen, allowing her only to open her eyes a few millimetres to let a little light in. She could feel she was no longer lying on a hard surface, but on a sofa or a bed. But she could not even attempt to move. Her body was out of her control. It were as if she was fully paralysed, and she may have even believed she was, had it not been that she could feel the pain of her injuries far more vividly than she wished too. She certainly had not lost all feeling, although part of her wished she had.
No longer did she want to put off the immanent death. Now she wished it would just come. Anything was better than lying here in terrible pain. And death would provide a release from the thoughts running through her head. She had nothing to do except think and it was driving her insane.
What if she had just left without attempting to apologise to Philip Bowran? What if she had never broken down in front of Grissom? What if she had never exploded in that interview? Would she still be here, lying on a bed in a stuffy room, God knows where, waiting to die? She doubted it. But what ifs were pointless. She had done all those things. And this was the consequence.
What were the team doing right now? Having witnessed a side of Philip Bowran that she had never wanted to see, she could now guess why Grissom and Nick had been visiting him. But had they even realised she had been there? She had told Grissom not to expect to see her again. So would he even realise she had gone? Maybe they were all just getting on with life. Nick, Greg and Warrick going out for a drink after the shift. Catherine going home to Lindsey. None of them sparing a thought for Sara. And why should they? She had left them. They probably hated her. She had gone without saying goodbye, without any explanation. She could die here and they would never know; never care. And that was their prerogative. Who had she been kidding – she was replaceable. Each and every one of them could live without her.
Even Grissom.
Silent tears rolled down Sara's cheeks. Grissom. They had parted on such bad terms. She had shouted at him. She no longer could bring herself to feel any anger. How could she have hated him for his lack of emotion and understanding? That was part of him, and she should have accepted it. She should have enjoyed the relationship they had had; been satisfied with a beautiful friendship, rather than longing for more. Years of wanting what she could not have had eaten away at her. And look what it had left her with. Lying on her deathbed mourning what might have been. Pathetic Sidle. Pull yourself together.
Once again, foreboding footsteps sounded, approaching the room. Sara's tears had only added to the difficulty in opening her eyes, and so she didn't try. Her job had heightened her senses and from the moment the door opened she knew who it was. From the overpowering smell of aftershave; the heavy footedness of his walk. Anyway, who else could it be?
His voice sent fear tingling down her spine.
"Oh, Sara, look at you. Promise me you won't try to leave again. Look what you made me do."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her cheek.
"Such a pretty face, all ruined. But I love you anyway. You know that, don't you? I'll love you no matter what."
His hand moved down from her face and began to explore her neck, then her shoulders, and then her chest. Cold shivers of revulsion rippled through Sara's body. No man had touched her like this for such a long time, and she was not going to let Philip Bowran do so now.
"Get off me," she growled through her damaged throat.
Still his hands explored, moving down her body. Then she felt his lips on her neck; his tongue touching her face. She attempted to cut herself off from her body; separate herself from what was happening, but she could not do it. She had no strength to fight, but as his lips met hers, and his tongue entered her dry mouth, she did the only thing she could think of. She bit his tongue, hard. She felt his blood drip onto her tongue as he darted back.
"YOU BITCH!"
She braced herself for another attack. But it never came. Instead she heard footsteps once again, this time leaving the room. And then the door shut and she was left alone once again.
Why did her do this to her? Why could he not just end it, now? Each moment she was still alive was just delaying the inevitable. And so she was left to wait once more.
How could you do that to me? We were close, so very close. I wanted to feel you; to touch you; to hold you. To make you mine in the way that Jennifer once was. I couldn't bear the look on your face. You looked repulsed. Like you didn't want to be with me. How could you hurt me like that? This isn't going to work. You just won't trust me. A relationship is built on trust. We cannot be together like this – one sided relationships don't work.
But I know what I have to do. I won't deny I'm a little afraid but I know you're worth it. And together we'll have the strength to do it. We'll give each other the courage. What we're going to do is the ultimate display of love. Everyone will know that we were the perfect couple; that we were one.
If we can't live together, then we'll just have to die together.