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Sara liked her apartment. It was small and the manger didn't allow pets, but it had distinct similarities to the break room back at work, and that seemed to make her feel less lonely, living in a place similar to that where she and her coworkers interacted. It made it more bearable if you had the feeling that at any moment one of them could walk around the corner for a cup of coffee.
It was a single large room with a bathroom attached; her kitchen and a large desk took up half the space, the other her dresser and a small closet next to a large couch. She didn't own an actual bed, didn't think it important with the little amount of sleep she allowed herself, and besides, it would only take up more space.
The floor was hardwood, but most people wouldn't have been able to tell under all the Forensic Magazines that covered it. Sara, if asked, would say that she had a single small window, but in truth it was only the peephole in her door. Her contacts to the outside world from within her apartment came from a rarely used phone on her desk, her perpetually active police scanner and PC, and a small television set in front of the large suede couch, which did pick up cable, but only the most basic. Her apartment was a box, and a very Spartan one at that, but Sara didn't see anything wrong with that.
She had actually only rented it assuming that she would be there only for a short time when Grissom had called her down from San Francisco, and when she was let on, she just stayed, figuring she'd get a bigger apartment after the lease was up. Now it was four years later and she still hadn't left, despite the fact that she had more than the amount of means to.
It had been a hectic month; November had barged through the door carrying December right behind it. Double shifts had burned through her overtime at an incredible rate, plus Grissom had pressured her into taking a couple days off for some serious R&R, so Sara was spending the first day of winter (at least that's what her calendar said) sitting alone in her freezing apartment having long ago given up on restraining her boredom, instead resigning to her fate of watching reruns of MASH through half-lidded glazed eyes with every available blanket cocooned around her.
A loud thump thump pounded it's way through Hawkeye's' speech. Sara was so zoned out that it took a moment to realize that the loud banging noise she was hearing wasn't coming from the television, but emanating through the walls. Emerging from her blanket cocoon to reach the remote she deftly flicked the mute button, the muffled shouts no longer having to battle to be heard. Whoever was on the other side of the east wall was making a lot of noise and by the sounds of it, rearranging their furniture in an expressive way.
The noise escalated and Sara slowly dropped the remote onto the abandoned couch. She was making her way towards the door to see what the problem was when a gunshot rang out quickly followed by the electric spray and screech of her dying T.V., sparks flying overhead as Sara instinctively dropped to the floor in a crouch.
The thumping sounds from the other side of the wall vanished; everything was silent except for the occasional spark from her now dead television and the low wail of a crying infant. Sara remained where she was for a few more seconds just listening before slowly standing up. Her phone was on the desk behind her, but she walked past it, back to where she was sitting on the couch not two minutes earlier. The blankets where still basically in one big pile on the brown suede, except for now there was small hole in the front of the leather. The bullet had passed through her T.V. and had lodged itself into her recently abandoned seat, no exit hole in the back indicating that the round was somewhere still inside the couch.
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The meeting room smelt like coffee, Greg's special blend of Blue Hawaiian to be specific, and it was driving Grissom insane (of course, he wasn't showing this, to everyone else it just seemed as if he was thinking hard about the current case they were on—Triple homicide at the Sweetheart Chapel—and he was, but a portion of his mind was focusing exceptionally hard on the aroma of Greg's coffee mug, not four feet away.) The coffee pot had been empty when he had gone to refill his mug, Eklie having taken the last of it and not set it up for more leaving Gil without his coffee and less than two hours of sleep and nothing but fumes of the caffeinated substance for the last twenty minutes.
Gil sighed in defeat as Greg took another sip of the High Octane Fuel, ruffling his notes distractedly as he pulled himself back to the case at hand.
"What do we know?"
"It's more like what we don't know," Catherine groaned. "We don't have the weapon, we're not even sure how they died yet—"
"Robbins' is doing the prelim now."
"Yet," Catherine continued stealing a glance, "No Eye-witness, no prints of any kind, and we haven't located the owner of the place or I.D.'d any of the vics!"
Grissom leaned back slightly in his chair, taking in Catherine's almost flustered appearance. "Why Catharine," Grissom's voice was soft and concerned, but his eyes twinkled with mirth, "You seem to be frustrated."
Catharine gave him a cool look, her strawberry blond hair being flung over her shoulder with a toss of her head, Gil just smirked.
"If at first you don't succeed…"
Perking up Greg replied, "Destroy all evidence that you tried?"
Greg's grin widened as Grissom opened his mouth to retort, the jibe at destroying evidence too tempting to leave alone, when his phone rang, cutting him off before he even began. Flicking the phone open with one hand he turned sideways from Cath and Greg.
"Grissom. I—Wait, what?" Gil's face hardened, "Look, don't touch anything, I'll send someone over, I…" He paused as whoever was on the other line tried to argue their point, Grissom just nodded his head unaware that the person on the other line wouldn't be able to see it. "I know you can, but you're on vacation, not to mention that if you touch anything the evidence will most likely be considered contaminated…" Another pause. "Don't make me pull rank, Sara, you're too close on this one, just sit back and let Brass do his job, I'm sending Nick over…You sure you're not hurt? Yeah, alright."
Gil hung up as he rose from his chair, Catharine and Greg standing as well, both wearing identical faces of confusion and concern.
"Is Sara alright? What happened?"
Grissom sighed yet again, the scent of coffee long forgotten, "Shooting in her apartment complex, but she says she's fine. I'm going to send Nick over…"
"He's in the lab with Warrick." Catharine supplied.
Gil nodded his thanks as he left the room, "We'll continue this later."
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Gil walked into the A/V lab catching the tail end of some joke Archie had told involving two strippers and an eight ball, Warrick and Nick had been laughing but had closed their mouths at seeing their advisor standing behind Archie, who was unaware of the fact that Grissom was right behind him.
"Alright, how bout this one! There's this hooker sitting in a bar when her—" Archie's words faded as he caught the shamefaced looks on his friends faces, slowly, as if by some force other than his own, he turned to find a stone-faced Grissom standing behind him.
"Discussing some case?" Grissom quipped.
Archie swallowed the lump in his throat as the two CSI's in front of him nervously cleared their throats. Grissom ignored it, instead turning toward his two CSI's.
"Warrick, I need you to handle this case by yourself."
"I'm on it." He replied, the worried look on his face disappearing as he plucked the case files out of Nick's hands, "Arch, you'll call me if you get anything." The Asian man nodding his head, shooting his friend a look as he quickly left the room leaving Nick and him alone with Grissom.
Grissom motioned for Nick to follow him, leaving Archie to let out a sigh of relief.
Walking quickly down the hall Grissom explained to Nick what had happened, the younger man keeping pace with his long strides.
"Is Sara alright?"
Grissom held back a sigh, "She says she is, but I want your opinion. Call me once you get there, I want a full report when you're done as well."
"Will do."
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It took him a little more than fifteen minutes to find the complex Sara lived in, Grissom's directions having been almost no help. Apparently no one had ever actually been over to Sara's place, Grissom having just dropped her off at home on one or two occasions. Parking his car and stepping out into the freezing cold Nick took in the apartment complex before him. It was old but seemed to be well kept, the outer brick wall and few windows clean and well cared for. With his breath hanging little wispy clouds into the frigid air, Nick grabbed his case kit and went inside.
Sara was in the hallway outside her apartment nursing a cup of coffee when Nick made his way up the last flight of stairs. Setting down his kit he stood in front of her, his right hand coming down to rest gently on her shoulder.
"You doin' alright?" He asked, his hand rubbing her shoulder as a sign of comfort.
Sara nodded into her coffee, taking in the heat from the dark liquid and the warm hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, it just surprised me is all." –she let out a mirthless laugh- "another minute or two…" She sighed, finally looking up into her friends face, light brown eyes meeting dark.
"I guess I'm still a little jumpy." She admitted, glancing back down and starring a moment longer than necessary into the styrofoam cup, not wanting Nick to see how shook up she really was.
Nick accepted the reply, despite the fact that he knew there was more to it, his hand sliding from her shoulder to pick up his field kit, the plastic cold under his heated hand. He gave Sara an encouraging smile before slipping into her neighbors' apartment where the gunshot had originated from.
Two officers had the room secured. The room had been trashed, furniture and smaller, broken, objects littered the far side of the room. The only things that hadn't been tossed across the room had either been nailed down or too heavy to lift. One of the badges, his tag reading Riley, walked over to the CSI as he entered.
Nick took in the room around him, "Looks like someone was redecorating."
"Yup, decided to get rid of a few things in her life, her husband being one of them." Riley scratched the scruff on his chin, "Apparently the couple got into a bit of a fight," -Nick grinned at the understatement- "and the wife took a shot at him. Missed him by a mile though, there's a hole in the wall over there," Riley indicated with a nod of his head, "Took out their neighbors T.V., and from what I hear, almost her as well."
Nick snapped his head back so fast he thought he'd get whiplash.
"What?"
Riley seemed somewhat stunned by the alarm that one word held, "Well, the wife's in custody and the husbands been taken in for quest—"
"That's not what I meant," Interrupted Nick, his free hand gesturing wildly as his voice rose. "Sara said that it just scared her, she never said anything about almost being shot!"
Raising both hands in a placating motion Officer Riley tried to calm the younger man down, "Whoa! Look, the young lady, Sara is it? Is fine. She had left the couch before the bullet even got there, now everything's under control." He slowly lowered his hands as Nick took a slow calming breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh.
"Truth is, I'm not even sure why you're here."
Nick narrowed his eyes slightly, but rotating his shoulders and letting out another sigh he let it go.
"Is the other room cleared?"
"Yup," Riley nodded, "The couch is a little worse for wear, but other than that it's fine. My boys and I'll just finish up here, it's nothing big."
Nick turned to leave, "Thanks."
"No problem." Replied Riley.
Sara wasn't out in the hall, but the door to her apartment had been left open. Standing in the doorway Nick knocked lightly on the frame, calling out her name before slowly entering the small apartment.
"Sara?"
"I'd thought you'd be gone by now." Her curt reply almost made him jump, but he was beyond thankful that he hadn't as he turned around. The harsh florescent lights of her bathroom outlined Sara; a large towel slung over one slender shoulder as she sauntered into the main room.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay before I left."
Sara stopped in front of her couch, a large hole now cut into the front, her hips leaning against the back; both arms wrapped around her self.
"I'm okay." The answer was short and final, the real meaning clear. 'Go away, I want to be alone'.
Nick gave her a pointed look before turning and walking back towards the door, but instead of going through it, he shut it, firmly, and then returned to stand in front of her on the opposite side of the leather couch, smirking at the astonished look on her face.
"You don't mind if I stay for a while, do you?"
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A.N.-Yeah, old fic, not even sure where I was going with it, but I liked what I had. Might even write more of it, though the last episode of CSI I watched was back in season four.