Sorry for the wait. You would not believe how hectic school is right now. Who would have though A-levels would be this much work! Roll on Christmas...
Em xxxx
"Hey, Sara. It's good to see you."
Sara felt her cheeks burn as Catherine placed a hand on her shoulder. She had been off work for a couple of days and after accepting the fact that Grissom was not going to let her go anywhere she had unpacked her suitcase and was now back at work. It was tough. Memories plagued her mind like an itch that would not go away. And she was well aware that everyone in the lab knew what had happened to her. She didn't expect anyone to welcome her with, 'How's the rape recovery going?', but it was still rather unsettling to have them skirt around the issue. She moved into a corner to pick up some papers on the table.
"So, how have you been coping without me?"
"We haven't coped at all."
The voice alone made Sara smile. "Hey, Greggo. Good to see you."
"You too." He walked straight up and embraced her. It was an out-of-character gesture yet somehow it seemed totally natural.
Sara felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. "You're in danger of becoming emotional if you're not careful," she laughed, pushing him away gently. She was suddenly aware of the whole team's eyes on her. "It's good to see you all, really. But all these corny reunions are wasting valuable time."
"I think you've worked enough overtime in your lifetime to more than make up for it," Nick said.
"Don't be so sure. I've got three whole days to make up for. If not more."
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Seems we've got the old Sara back."
The rest of the team smiled, agreeing. Sara just wished she could be as convinced.
Stifling a yawn, Sara shuffled through a pile of papers. She was heading towards the end of the shift and she was struggling to stay awake. At that moment she could hardly believe that in the past she had worked double, and even triple, shifts. It was as though something had been taken out of her. She had not left the lab today. Grissom thought it was best that way; she should ease herself back into 'normal' life. She had not been in a position to disagree, and sitting there now, exhausted just from paperwork, she was certain that she would not have coped with a day in the field. For a second she contemplated leaving half an hour early, but the thought did not last long. Even at a time like this she was not going to give in to a little tiredness. She took a sip of the strong coffee, now cold, that was sitting on the desk in front of her and sat up straight in her chair, stretching her arms above her head.
"Having an exercise break?" Grissom joked as he entered the room she was sitting in.
Sara smiled feebly and attempted, unsuccessfully, to stifle another yawn. "Exercise is the last thing on my mind right now."
"What is on your mind?" Grissom pulled up a seat in front of her.
"Oh come on, Grissom. You're not my shrink."
"No. I'm your friend."
Sara couldn't decide whether she felt annoyed and patronised or touched by the affection Grissom was showing her, when he evidently found it so difficult. "Thank you." She touched his hand, briefly and gently.
He looked up at her. She was gazing, but not into his eyes. She was staring right through him. It was an eerie sensation. He was aware of the fact that she was there in body, but not in mind or spirit. He wondered whether he was wrong to have let her come back to work so soon. Not that he had really had much choice in the matter. But he could do something now.
"I'll drive you home."
"Thanks." She began to study the papers in front of her again.
"I meant now."
"The shift's not over yet."
"It will be in half an hour. No one will miss you."
"Thanks," she murmured sarcastically, allowing herself a little smile when she saw panic flash across Grissom's face.
"No – I didn't mean it like that," he replied, flustered.
"I know. But really, I can last thirty minutes." Her body chose the wrong moment to hit her with another uncontrollable yawn.
"You're exhausted."
"Just a few more minutes."
Grissom despaired of her stubbornness. He saw her reach out for another file on the desk. She scanned it quickly and her face went deadly pale. He reached out to take it from her.
"Sara? What is it? Let me see."
She let the file slip from her hands into his, a lump forming in her throat. Grissom glanced at the file in his hands and saw what had caused Sara's shock. He realised immediately what had bothered her. Inadvertently she had picked up her own case file. He could only thank God that she had not opened it. To read about the investigation into her own rape would have been, he believed, far too much for Sara. He slowly stood up, placing the file out of Sara's reach on a corner of the desk.
"I'll take you home."
Sara nodded.
Sara cradled the cup of tea in her hands, savouring the warmth. But she did not drink it. Grissom noticed this, and it worried him. She would not eat and it had been an effort just to get her to let him make her the cup of tea. And now she just held it, staring into it as though she expected the solution to all her problems to appear from its murky depths.
"It's getting cold," she murmured.
"I'll make you another," Grissom replied.
"No."
The room returned to silence. Grissom did not know what to do. He had known he would have to walk a difficult path with Sara, and he was prepared to do whatever it took, but that did not make moments like this any less awkward. She had seemed a little better when she had arrived at the start of the shift the previous evening, but he should have realised that emotions would come in waves. He stood up from the sofa, moved over to Sara and gently removed the cup from her hand. "At least let me go wash this up." Sara let him take it. He exited to the kitchen and rinsed the cup. When he returned Sara was sitting in exactly the same position, now staring into her lap instead of the mug. She must have detected his presence, although she did not look up.
"What am I going to do?"
Grissom was taken aback by her words. There was a desperation in them; a plea for help, which he did not know how to react to.
"You're going to get through this."
"You keep saying that. I keep agreeing. But what does it mean? I can't sit at home all day. But I'm useless at work. I couldn't think straight. I'm no good to anyone like that."
"It's early days yet, Sara."
"But I can't see how things will get any better."
"Of course they will."
"How?"
"For one thing we're going to catch whoever did this."
"Not necessarily."
"Of course we will."
"Don't humour me, Grissom. I know the chances are slim. We haven't exactly got much to go on. I hardly saw his face and there's no DNA evidence because I left it so late before saying anything."
"That's all true. But it just makes it harder. Not impossible."
"I appreciate your efforts to convince me, but they're not going to help."
All of a sudden she sat up in the chair and stared straight at him.
"You better go home."
"I'm going nowhere."
"Don't be stupid. You need your sleep. You've got work to do later."
"I'll survive."
"Go, Grissom. I'll be fine. You can come back later. You'll be no good to anyone, including me, if you can't stay awake."
Grissom could see the reason in her words, as much as he wished he couldn't. He reluctantly stood up and opened his mouth to speak. Sara put a finger to his lips. The action was tender, with real feeling behind it. "Don't say anything. Thank you, Grissom. For everything. For being here." Yet somehow they both knew that nothing more was to come of it. Not yet. Grissom silently let himself out of the apartment.
If he had looked back he would have seen the tears running down Sara's cheeks. If he had thought about it, he would have realised the finalityof her words.
Sara's neighbour sat watching the television as usual. She heard a tap running from the house next door. It was a strange time to be having a bath, she thought to herself, before she remembered Sara's working hours. She turned up the television to drown out the noisy plumbing.
The high volume meant that she did not realise that half an hour later the tap was still running.