Disclaimer: They're not mine
Rating: T or PG-13 for language and violence
Summary: It's 2am. The doorbell rings. A baby is crying. What are you going to do? W/S with GCR moments and a major case
Instead of plugging my Live Journal Community for writers (writeunderscoreimpulsive) today, I'm gonna apologise if the last chapter upset anybody. That isn't a sarcastic comment, by the way, friends. In no way is it bitter; I am genuinely sorry of the whole concept of rape, and of it being written quite as darkly and grittily as it was done, distressed any readers as the thought never crossed my mind. To me, the warning of "language and violence" encompassed "rape" also without giving away the storyline but I understand there may be different standards for different readers and, for that, I apologise. And hey, look, I did manage a sneaky community-plugging there...
Thank you, reviewers, all the same. Wonderful stuff. Thanks to Aleja21, icklebitodd (no, you were beaten to it! I am gravely disappointed...), sidle girl, Kelly, Ladybug07, Joyce3, red lighting, JennCorinthos, WSShippeR, cherishedcrush, Shelbers, MissyJane, Review1234 and Katiyana. Some really great reviews in that bunch of many, many, many so thanks again. Feedback is brilliant. (So are quotations...) Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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Wake The Hope. Chapter Eight. Trace
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"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.
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Warrick is running up the stairs to see her. He stops in front of her front door and knocks lightly. Sara starts suddenly at the sound and hesitates on the other side of the door.
"Warrick?" she calls uncertainly without opening the door.
"It's me, Sara – are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asks desperately. The door swings open.
"Don't touch anything," she tells him distractedly. It doesn't matter anyway; he's only looking at her. When he sees her standing in her living room, still with Nate nestled in her arms, looking very small and very pale, he wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly.
"Oh Christ, Sara." he whispers. "I called Brass and the team – they're on their way over. Are you hurt?"
"Don't touch anything. He might have left some trace..." she repeats distantly. He holds her out at arms length and looks at her numb, vacant face. Then he notices the thin line of blood on her neck.
"Oh Jesus – is that deep?" he reaches up a hand to run a finger across the cut on her neck but she grabs his wrist before he touches it.
"Don't touch anything, Warrick." she asserts. He looks at her, surprised at the ferocity of her tone. "Please, Warrick. It's evidence."
Her eyes are clouded, as though she's far off somewhere else. He drops his hand to his side; if this is how she wants to deal with it, as though it were just another case, then that is how they'll take it.
"My kit's in the car," he states. "You stay here – look after Nate, and I'll go get it. We can start processing the scene."
Sara looks at him and smiles gratefully; glad he's doing his best to make this easier on her. She nods as he disappears back down the hall and stands watching that space in the doorway until he comes back.
"I've bagged the clothes from the attack," she informs him curtly. Her clothes. He baulks slightly, still unable to separate himself from the whole incident. Warrick kneels on the floor, busying himself with his kit.
"I'll put Nate to bed," she continues, tenderly stroking Nate's soft hair. "You take the hall and front door – I'll do the living room."
It was just like any other scene, just like any other case but, as she passes the living room mirror, she notices her tear-streaked face, the swollen side of her cheek from the punch and the slit of red across her white skin.
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Brass sits forwards in the chair in her living room. The rest of the team have finished processing every inch of the scene – there's nothing in it but they hardly care. Sara sits on the couch, facing Brass. She looks peaked and clutches tightly onto the edge of the sofa as though she were about to fall off. Around the room stand her colleagues, silent and unsure of what to do.
Greg chews nervously on his lower lip, holding onto his kit and standing very still. Nick rubs the back of his neck and observes the pale Sara with pained sympathy. Catherine flits between looking at her and looking at the wall, not knowing what to do or say – she can't even begin to imagine how traumatised the poor girl must feel. She eventually settles on staring at Gil who stands by her side and watches Sara closely with fatherly concern. Warrick gazes out of Sara's balcony window, guilt-stricken and tormented.
Jim Brass breaks the silence with a cough and flips open his notebook.
"So Sara – do you think you can describe your attacker?" he begins gently. Sara shakes herself and nods decisively.
"He was a white guy...blond hair and..." her voice trails off, frustrated at the blip in her memory though she'd tried so hard to remember. "Dammit, Jim. I tried...I really did..."
"That's fine, Sara. It's fine. How about you just tell me what happened?" Brass moves quickly on. Sara swallows down the lump in her throat – frustration, terror and tiredness mounting – and nods again.
"Well, I was up at about quarter to two. Nate woke me up," she smiles slightly at the memory but only Nick and Brass return the smile supportively. Everyone else remains frozen as she goes on. "He was crying a lot and I haven't really slept much lately; I guess I couldn't tell the difference between him crying and the recording outside...the doorbell rang and... and I opened the door..."
Warrick's back flinches again and Sara pauses. Despite everything, she struggles to remember and the snatches of memory taunt her with choosing to recall only the most horrific parts, the chilling fear and his voice rumbling in her ear. She grips her seat tighter still and tenses her jaw. Catherine, who'd looked back at her briefly, looks away again, unable to watch for long. Even Brass is finding it hard and, watching Sara relive everything all over again, he touches her hand softly.
"Sara...you don't have to do this right now," he murmurs. "We can come back to you in the morning – in a few days."
"No," she cuts him off firmly. "For anyone else, you'd need action to be taken right away. If you can be professional, Brass, so can I."
Brass nods at her resilience and allows her to go on.
"I thought it would be Warrick – I invited him over to say thanks for helping out," she continues, looking at his back. Warrick turns slightly, sees her looking at him, eager to get him to be okay with it but his eyes travel down to the stripe of blood across her neck and he stares back out of the window. Rejected, Sara switches her gaze to Catherine. "Thanks for finishing up the baby-proofing, by the way, Cath. And you too, Nicky." Catherine and Nick force smiles onto their faces all the time wondering how she can take this so calmly.
Sara looks at the floor for a moment before carrying on with the events.
"Anyway – it wasn't Warrick." she says with a half-laugh. "The guy came in and knocked me to the floor. I put Nate onto the sofa and then he held the knife to my throat. He told me not to move, not to say anything. And then he pinned me down and..."
She pauses, finding her mouth suddenly dry. None of them want to hear what comes next, though they already know, but it has to be said.
"And then he raped me." Sara concludes, staring hard at her clenched hands. The flinch shudders through the room and all the people in it but herself. Greg hangs his head, shoulders slumped. Grissom's face tightens and he, too, looks away. Catherine impulsively grabs his arm without even knowing it and Brass stares intently at his notebook, writing down her words with more forceful deliberation than is necessary.
"He used a condom," she adds brightly. "But maybe if it split we might be able to get some DNA. Maybe one of you could take me to the hospital...to see if he left any trace..."
Her voice dies out again as she looks imploringly around the room for someone to give her a ride to Desert Palms. Nobody can even look at her and it makes her feel suddenly very alone.
"Please?"
Nick averts his eyes when her gaze falls on him; his face is contorted painfully and everyone is a mess of guilt, sympathy, concern and anger.
"I'll take you," Catherine speaks up finally, surprising herself to hear her voice come out so fiercely. She tries again, more lightly: "I'll take you – come on, sweetie."
Sara smiles thankfully at her.
"Are we done here, Brass?" she asks the man. Brass looks up finally, with oddly bright eyes and nods wordlessly. Sara smiles at him, too and gets unsteadily to her feet.
"Come on, Sara." Catherine holds out a hand to the shaken woman and guides her out of the door, grabbing Sara's jacket off the hook by the door and putting it around her.
"Someone will have to watch Nate tonight," Sara says as she leaves. Catherine nods.
"It's okay, we've got it covered. You don't need to worry about anything." she assures her and shoots a pointed glance back at the men in the room before disappearing with Sara down the corridor.
Nick sighs finally, sinking his head into his hands, echoing what everyone else is feeling. Brass taps his pen against his notepad before decisively getting to his feet. As he leaves the room, he claps a hand onto Gil's shoulder and jolts the man back out of a daze. Gil looks up and takes in Brass' grim smile, returning it with his own. Greg drops the kit bag to the floor and looks for reassurance from any of the other faces in the room. Everyone is rooted in their own personal hell and Warrick, leaning his forehead against the cold glass of the window, blinks back furious tears.
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