Author's Notes: Well, Hurricane Wilma blew over us with a lot of rain and a lot wind, but not much more. I got half a day off of work (and the power stayed on), so I got to write! Thanks for all your best wishes and kind words. And enjoy this chapter;)
Giving Up
by Kristen Elizabeth
I know it's late, late in the game,
But my feelings, my true feelings haven't changed,
Here in my heart.
"Back again, Captain Brass?" Lawton shook his head, amused. "I assume you have a more detailed warrant this time?"
"Not only that." Brass glanced over his shoulder at the two CSI's. "I have them."
Having been filled in on the Julia Sommers case and its connection to Sara, both Nick and Warrick were eager to get inside the doctor's house. They gave the man in question matching cool smiles as they filed past him, kits in hand.
"I don't know what you're expecting to find," Lawton called out after them. "I've already admitted to having a relationship with Julia."
Nick turned back just long to enough to give him a cocky wink. "Don't you worry 'bout us," he said, laying the accent on thick. "If it's here, we'll find it."
Twenty minutes later, Warrick found it.
"Same length, same color," he said to Nick in a low tone. "What do you think?"
Standing in the doctor's kitchen, Nick examined the medium length brown hairs Warrick had discovered on the otherwise pristine floor. "We'll have to test it. But yeah." He swore sharply. "They could be Sara's."
"We gotta tell Grissom."
Nick methodically bagged the hairs. "After the test. When we know for sure."
Warrick motioned Brass over and filled him in. A moment later, Brass approached Lawton. "Congratulations, Doctor. You get another all expenses paid trip to the fabulous Las Vegas Police…" He was cut off by his phone ringing. "Hold that thought," he told Lawton as he pulled out his cell. "Brass."
After listening for a moment, he switched the phone to his other ear. "Are you sure? Are you one hundred, god-damn percent sure that it's her? Is she okay?" Another few seconds passed. "Yeah. Call him. But just…give it a few minutes, Vartann."
He snapped the phone shut just as Nick and Warrick approached. "I'll take Dr. Happy Pants in. You get back to Grissom's."
"Why?" Nick asked.
"What's going on?" Warrick added.
"He'll be getting a phone call in a few minutes. And it's going to take more than Greg Sanders to keep him from losing it when he does."
If there really was a therapeutic quality to a cup of hot tea, it was lost on Grissom. He didn't know why Greg had made it for him and he was even less sure about why he'd taken it from him. Likely, it was a peace offering, although an unnecessary gesture. He wasn't mad at his young CSI; his conclusions had been perfectly logical given the evidence. To all outward appearances, he didn't care about Sara. He'd worked very hard at crafting and maintaining that façade. Therefore, he couldn't fault those who bought into it.
Grissom set the cup aside, untouched. Pressing the tips of his fingers together, he rested his forehead on his thumbs. Greg came out of the kitchen just then. He stood for a second, watching his boss.
The doorbell rang, startling both men into action. Greg reached the door first and opened it to reveal Nick and Warrick. They'd obviously just jogged from their car, which was haphazardly parked in the driveway.
Greg swallowed a sudden lump of fear in his throat. "What's happened?" Grissom came up behind him, but said nothing. "Did you find something?"
Before either man could answer, Grissom's phone rang.
Nick look straight at Grissom. "You need to answer that."
He did so, but slowly. "Grissom."
"Grissom, this is Detective Vartann." The man paused. "Half an hour ago, a 911 operator received a call from one of your CSIs."
"Sara," was all he said. "Where is she?"
"Well…that's sort of our question, too."
"My name…is Sara Sidle. Help me. Please."
"Sara, I'm Mary. What's your emergency? Sara? Are you still there?"
"My name is Sara Sidle. I'm a CSI with the Vegas crime lab."
"I hear you, Sara. Tell me what's wrong so I can help you."
"I'm in the desert. Someone left me here. I don't know who. I've been walking for…hours. Please help me."
"We're going to, Sara. Do you have any idea where in the desert you are? Can you see any landmarks?"
"I think…the Wildlife Refuge. But I don't know. I was…blindfolded."
"You were abducted? Sara? Sara, are you there?"
"I'm cold."
"Sara?"
"Call…Grissom. Grissom will find me."
Brass glanced at the man as he listened to the 911 tape of Sara's call. His hands were clenched in fists so tight that his knuckles were white. Upon hearing his name, he pushed away from the table.
"Grissom? Who's Grissom, Sara?"
"Gil Grissom."
"Is he your husband? Boyfriend."
"Neither. He's my boss. Just my boss. Nothing more. Never anything more."
"Okay, Sara, we're having some trouble finding your signal. You understand about cell phone towers?"
"I do."
"We can't seem to pinpoint which tower your phone is picking up; your signal is weak. Anything you can tell us about where you are will really help us."
"I can't see anything now. It's dark. And cold. It was so hot, and now it's so cold."
"Hold on, Sara. We're going to find you. I promise."
Vartann pushed a button on the recording device, pausing the tape. "The signal faded out a few seconds later."
"She's all alone out there," Grissom said between clenched teeth. "And she's cold."
"But she's alive," Greg reminded him. "She's still alive." He gave Grissom a worried look. "You're not going to throw anything, are you?"
He was silenced with a look from Brass. Grissom gripped the edge of the desk. "You weren't able to pinpoint her exact signal, but were you able to narrow it down?"
"Yeah," Vartann said. "It's probably the farthest tower out, at the edge of the Wildlife Refuge. But that tower covers a huge area. She could be anywhere in it."
"Well, are you mobilizing search teams?" When there was no reply, Grissom voice went up a notch. "Are you doing anything to find her? Anything at all!"
"Gil, calm down."
"She's not dead, Jim! Why are you all acting like she is?"
He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "The search teams are preparing to head out. Because of the lack of signal strength, we're starting on the edge of the signal range and working in towards the tower.
"This is Sara, Jim. Sara. My Sara."
"I know," Brass said quietly.
"Captain Brass!" A uniformed officer burst into the room. "We've got her back! 911's putting her straight through. Line 4."
Grissom grabbed the phone before anyone else could even reach for it.
I know, I know I was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong,
I'd like to make amends for the love that I've never, ever, ever, ever shown
Just don't give up on me, every word is true.
When the signal died during her first call, Sara thought that was it. Her last life line had given out. And as scared as she'd been in that moment, it was almost a relief. Talking expended so much energy. She needed that energy as the temperature dropped. Her skin was still hot to the touch, but she was cold down to her very bones.
Still lying on the rocky ground, Sara closed up the phone and took a deep breath. She really had absolutely no luck at all. And now it didn't matter. Because it was all about to be over.
"Grissom," she whispered. "I never told you…I love you."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Sara knew what she had to do. Drawing every bit of strength left in her body, she sat up. When she could, she struggled to get to her knees, then her feet. The whole world spun, but Sara forced herself to stay standing. If the signal was too weak to track her, she needed to get closer to the tower. And that meant she needed to keep walking.
That's just what she did. She walked and walked and walked until her feet were numb, glancing at her phone every few seconds until she saw it come to life again.
Falling to her knees again, she dialed 911 and prayed.
"Sara! Sara, honey, is that you?"
"Grissom?"
"Oh god…Sara. I'm here. I'm here."
"Can you hear me now?"
"That's okay. Make jokes. Just stay with me." Grissom sat down because his legs would no longer support him. "We're tracking you, Sara. It won't be long, I promise."
"Don't start making promises," she said weakly. "That's one thing you've…never done. You can't break a promise you never made."
He swallowed heavily. "Honey, I know you're upset with me, but you have to believe that I'm coming to get you. I will find you, Sara."
"Why do you only call me 'honey' when something bad happens?"
"I don't know," Grissom replied, honestly. There was a long pause. "Sara? Sara, stay with me!"
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. "For now." There was something unsettling about that last part, but Grissom chose to ignore the warning bells going off in his head for the moment. "I'm tired, Grissom," Sara went on. "It's cold…and I'm tired."
"I know, honey. But you can't go to sleep. Not just yet." He looked up at Brass; his old friend made a gesture to suggest that if he was going out with the rescue teams, now was the time. "Sara, I have to switch phones. It'll only a take a second. Okay?"
"Why?"
"I'm heading out with the search party, but I'm going to stay with you. Understand? I'm not leaving you, honey. Sara? Answer me, Sara!"
"It's okay…if you don't find me in time. I'm ready to go, Grissom."
"Don't even think like that!" he ordered. "Understand me? Sara?"
"Gil." Brass cleared his throat. "They're going to transfer her to your cell."
"Sara, hang on. This will only take a second." Grissom pressed the hold button and hung up the phone with great reluctance. He met Greg's stare for a brief second.
"She doesn't sound good," Greg said, echoing Grissom's thoughts. "There's got to be a better way to find her. GPS in her phone? We've used it before."
"Work on it," Grissom ordered. "You know where I'll be."
"Give us some good news, Buddy," Warrick said to the new DNA tech as he and Nick entered the room.
The impossibly young guy frowned. "Which result would be good? A match or no match?"
"Let's think. We found hairs with skin tags, which means they were ripped out. I'd say it'd be good if they didn't match our friend and colleague," Nick informed him.
"Then…no. The news isn't good. In fact, the news sucks." Buddy, as he'd been christened by Warrick and would ever be known as, despite the fact that his name was Tim, handed Nick the results. "The DNA on file for Sara is an exact match to the hairs. I'm sorry."
"Well, at least now we know who put took her. And when we find her…alive, because damnit, we will…we can put that son of a bitch behind bars where he belongs," Nick said, his voice low and dangerous.
"Hey." Catherine breezed into the lab just then, her hair windblown. "I'm here. Where's Grissom?"
"You've got to keep talking to me, Sara."
"Too tired. Told you already."
"Honey, it'll keep you warm." Grissom glanced at Brass as he drove the Denali down the dark highway. "Tell me about your cat. You said you had one, remember?"
"I don't," she said, her voice sounding small even through the cell phone. "I don't know what I was saying then. I was mad at you." She paused. "Still am, a little."
"That's okay. I understand."
Sara sighed and the tired sound sent a pang straight through his heart. "I just wanted to be happy…while I could. And you wouldn't let me."
"Honey…there's so many things you need to know." The car hit a pothole just then; he gripped the dashboard with one hand. "Things I should have told you years ago."
"I would have liked to have heard them. You know what else I would have liked?"
"What?" A few seconds passed. "Sara? Talk to me, Sara."
"I would have liked to wake up next to you," Sara whispered. "I hated sleeping alone sometimes."
Grissom frowned. "Stop talking in the past tense, Sara. We're coming to get you right now."
"I'm sorry, Grissom. You'll be too late." Her laugh was drained of all joy. "Grissom. Even now I can't call you 'Gil'."
"Honey, you can call me anything you want. You always could."
"No. Too much water…under our bridge." She sighed again. "Just going to close my eyes for a second…"
"No, Sara…Sara!" The phone clicked on the other end, then there was silence. "Sara!" Grissom pulled the phone away from his ear, clutching it in his hand so hard that at any second, it might have snapped in two. "She's gone."
Brass took his eyes from the road only for a second. "We'll find her, Gil."
"She's gone," he repeated.
Brass' phone rang just then. "What?" he said in curt greeting, after digging the device out of his jacket pocket.
"It's me. Greg." The young CSI cleared his throat. "I know where Sara is."
She hadn't meant to close up the phone when she closed her eyes; it had just been a reflex. Her whole body had suddenly curled up, desperately seeking the last bits of warmth she possessed. Even so, all she could seem to do was shiver as she drifted into dangerous slumber.
Her dreams were laced with Grissom. His face came to her so many times, starting from the very first time she'd ever seen it. She fallen instantly and fallen hard for those eyes. From all the way across a crowded lecture hall, they'd captivated her. And never let go.
There was a light and she felt herself smiling because she'd never believed in the heavenly gates, the light at the end of the tunnel, even life after death itself. But there it was, shining down on her, so bright that she had to…close her eyes? But…her eyes were already closed. Weren't they?
"Sara…Sara…Sara…" Someone was calling her name over and over again. She wanted to tell them to shut up, let her sleep. "Honey…"
There was a shadow in the light now, a head blocking the brightness. Sara squinted, searching for features within the dark shape. She saw blue.
"I'm here. Sara…Sara, please…say something. Sara!"
"Gil." She felt her lips moving, heard the word coming out on a whisper.
Hands touched her body and the pain jolted her back into reality. She screamed; her arms were on fire.
"I'm sorry! Sara, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She whimpered as he went on to say, "But I have to do this, honey."
And then she was in his arms, being lifted into the air. The pain was a dull, continuous throb, but the cold was seeping away as the warmth from his body seeped in. His chest was comfortable, so comfortable that she could fall asleep again. But she couldn't until she told him something. The thing that she needed to tell him; the thing that had kept her going so she might be able to tell him.
"Love you," she murmured. "I love you…Gil."
The thud of his heartbeat against her ear tripled. "Oh god, honey…" She felt lips on the crown of her head and although his hot breath was painful against her burned scalp, she was too tired to protest. "Please, Sara," he pleaded with her. "Please don't give up on me."
She felt him laying her down on a gurney. She didn't want to let go anymore; her fingers clutched at the collar of his shirt.
Then, his mouth brushed the most delicate of kisses across her cracked lips. "I love you, too," he whispered.
And then she was pulled away from him and loaded onto an ambulance. The last thing she saw before the doors were closed was his face.
I'll give you my everything, all of my love, all of my love, all of my love, love, love
Just don't give up on me
Oh please, please, please
Don't give up on me.
- Solomon Burke
To Be Continued