"Please tell me this wasn't your basic pipe bomb." Jim said, picking at the lime green Jell-o with the unidentified beige substance on the top then dropping the fork and pushing away the tray.
Curious, Gil Grissom stuck his finger in the topping and tasted it. "Cool Whip."
"Huh?"
"The topping. Oh, and it wasn't your basic pipe bomb. The lab found traces of RDX, the explosive material in C-4, the same plastic explosive used to blow a chunk out of the USS Cole a few years ago. This one had a detonator triggered by a very sophisticated timing device."
"How do you know all this? I thought the FBI was handling it."
"They are," Grissom replied with smile. Continuing without a further explanation, he said, "It was someone who knew something about explosives, not some kid playing around on the Internet. His intent was to bring the house down. If you hadn't acted so quickly, I'd have lost two good friends."
Jim looked up at Gil and for a moment, he thought he saw more than a hint of emotion in the bugman's eyes.
"You were damn lucky, Jim. You both were. The shrapnel that hit you and forced you and Sara to the ground, probably saved your life."
"Yeah, I've thought about that luck thing a lot lately." Jim was still playing with the Jell-o, randomly stabbing the wobbly gelatin with a fork. There was something bothering him and even though he knew Grissom was the one to ask, he wasn't sure if Grissom had an answer. "Gil, is Sara mad at me?"
Grissom was quiet for a moment as he tried to formulate a response. Sara hadn't talked to him about what happened—as far as he knew, she hadn't spoken to anyone about it. But Sara didn't need to tell him. "She's not mad at you, Jim. If anything, she's mad at herself."Remembering the conversation with Catherine, he let that explanation suffice. Instead, he said sadly, "I miss her, you know?"
Grissom did know. He knew that Jim looked out for Sara and he completely understood why. Jim was still carrying the weight of Holly Gribb's murder and on more than one occasion, Sara had shown a tendency for reckless behavior. Brass wasn't going to let it happen to another CSI, even if it meant putting himself in danger.
"Give her time. She needs to reconcile this within herself before she can take the next step."
"And I'm the next step."
"Yes." Gil looked at his watch and got up from the chair. "Some of us have places to go."
"Yeah, I'm just laying here, soaking up disability and watching Days of Our Lives." Jim picked up the plate of Jell-o. "Hey, while you're at it, take this stuff back to the lab and analyze it. I'm fairly certain it's not from this planet."
Grissom laughed as he left the room.
Jim laid his head back on the pillows and let his mind drift. As much as he enjoyed the visits, each one seemed to leave him completely drained. On one of his frequent visits Dr. Kapoor had warned the detective that his activity level would be limited for quite some time but given that this conversation followed one of Catherine's visits, Jim had the distinct feeling the doctor wasn't just referring to his ability to climb stairs. The thought of that little inference made him smile even if it wasn't a possibility. He and Catherine were just friends and apart from a handful of dates here and there, Jim hadn't been in a serious relationship for almost two years now. Not many women were willing to put up with the job or the hours. His past was a testament to that; his future wasn't looking any brighter. Good thing he wasn't the suicidal type.
His life hadn't exactly been the happily ever after he'd hoped for on his wedding day. He knew he was playing against the odds; that marriage and law enforcement didn't go together, but his parents had a good marriage and he always wanted what they had. Somewhere along the way though, it all went horribly wrong and now all he had to show for it was fragments, pieces of a little girl's broken childhood, of a broken marriage, of a broken career. His marriage was long a lost cause; he knew that when Nancy stopped hiding the fact that she was screwing around, when she'd thrown it in his face that Ellie wasn't his. He still remembered the argument that led to the final crushing blow: the revelation that Mike O'Toole had fathered Ellie. Knowing how much Jim despised O'Toole, Nancy knew it would cut him deep and it did. He'd stayed locked away in some seedy hotel for three solid days while he contemplated his worth as a man from the bottom of a bottle. It was a dark period in his life that easily would have buried him had it not been for the one person who believed in him. She had brought him back from the edge and kept him from crawling inside the bottle and dying. Without knowing all the truths, she'd given him a new purpose and for that he'd always love her.
He knew he couldn't fix his marriage but he could try to put his career right. It hadn't been a hard decision to bring down O'Toole's corrupt crew or turn his back on Newark for a new start in Vegas. Unfortunately, he'd nearly managed to fuck that up too but eventually he ended up back where he belonged, back in homicide doing what was familiar. He had reconciled himself to the fact that any aspirations for something more had been squashed with Holly Gribbs' death but his priorities had been put back into focus for him and much of the anger and resentment he had felt before was gone.
And then there was Ellie.
She was the one part of his life still undone, the splinter under his skin, elusive, complicated and inflammatory. She was the one part of his life he wanted so much to resolve and yet, the one part over which he had the least control. The more he reached out, the farther Ellie slipped away from his grasp, embedding herself deeper and deeper into his skin. Still, he wasn't about to give up. Not yet.
Dragging the telephone over, he dialed the number from memory. Jim Brass was a detective; he always prided himself on his ability to find anyone. Part of that came from being well connected, sometimes to the seedier side of the city. But if Ellie were still in Vegas, he knew just the person to track her down. It was time to call in a favor.
Los Cabos Apartments, Las VegasSara woke up in a cold sweat, her right arm throbbing, her hands shaking, and made her way through the contrived darkness of her bedroom and into the filtered light of the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water onto her face, hoping to cleanse herself of the memories.
She knew it wasn't her fault but it still left her with the same sense of numbness that she'd felt the last time, when the lab had exploded. She'd become reckless then, taking risks that did nothing but provoke Brass's ire and Grissom's concern. Was taking risks her way of absolving herself of the guilt? Or on some deeper level was it a way to purge all the frustrations, all the anger and disappointment that she'd experienced over her life? She really couldn't say but the feeling was there again, rippling beneath the surface, uneasy and restless.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Sara Sidle was appalled at the image that stared back. She'd had the whole of her life flash before her eyes for a second time and still there was nothing to see. She needed to put the past behind her and move forward. If that meant giving up on a man emotionally unavailable, then she would. This was her wake up call.
A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts and sent her hesitantly to the front door. Seeing him standing there, all her renewed determination melted away.
"Can I come in?"
She opened the door wider and stood aside as Gil Grissom entered the apartment.
"How are you?"
"Okay."
Studying the emptiness in her eyes, he pressed again. "How are you really?"
"I'm okay really."
He was losing her and needed do something about it, something that crossed the boundaries of his comfort level. With Catherine's words still clear in his mind, he gave her the truth. "Sara, I'm here because I care about you."
"Yeah, I know. Afraid I'll go off half-cocked and do something crazy."
He stood directly in front of her and gently cupped her face in his hands, urging her to look at him. He didn't know if he could do this again so he had to get it right. "No, Sara. I care about you. I know how difficult this has been for you and I want you to let me help."
Sara nodded slowly, understanding that for once he wasn't speaking to her as a subordinate; for once he really did care about her. She wanted to cry, to fall into his comforting arms and unburden herself of the overwhelming guilt but all she could seem do at the moment was sit down.
Seeing her shoulders fall as the tough façade begin to crumble, he sat next to her and very quietly put his arm around her shoulders. Nothing more was said; nothing more had to be said.
She found her comfort, if only for the moment.
xx
To be continued in Chapter 7