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
Chapter Ten and I've already hit the One Hundred Reviews mark! Ha ha – unbelievable. Thanks very much, all and especially Aleja21, icklebitodd (Nestle Crunch, hmm? Well y'know, Joyce3 offers muffins...), MissyJane, nick55, WSShippeR, Kelly, Shelbers, JennCorinthos (thanks again, I always aim to try and get a vividness across so that means a lot), Megara1, sidle girl, charmed1818, Review1234 (yes! Longest review! You win!), Nepeace, Joyce3 (no problem, you more than made up for it) and cherishedcrush.
And actually, I'd like to add (especially to cherishedcrush) that I LIVE IN LONDON! We haven't got Season Six yet and won't for a while! Unfortunately, I already heard that particular spoiler elsewhere by accident but I like staying spoiler-free so, though I am vastly jealous of your American CSI Advances, please keep me in the dark! On another note, since two whole people mentioned they'd like to hear the story of Gil getting locked in the bathroom, I think I might write that as a GCR sideline fic, just for you...
Plug: write underscore impulsive. The Live Journal community for creative writing. Now I'll be off, this chapter is of epic-length so prizes to whoever's still awake at the end. Try not to read too much into the medical technicalities. They are most probably wrong. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx
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Wake The Hope. Chapter Ten. Jigsaw Fit
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"A soul mate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks.
When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our trust selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are;
We can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other.
No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise."
RICHARD BACH
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Warrick is jolted awake when he hits the floor. He winces after rolling off Sara's small couch and lies there for a while, wondering where he is. The whole terrible night comes back to him in the growing morning light. He's barely slept at all but finds he can't for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Despite all that Nick said, there's still that aching guilt eating away at his insides. He's almost thankful when he hears Nate beginning to whine over the baby monitor placed on Sara's desk and gets to his feet, telling himself firmly to stop being so damn self-pitying.
"Hey Nate," he greets the small baby in the crib. Nate looks at him for a while, recognising the face, but it isn't the one he'd hoped for and he resumes crying. Warrick grins and lifts him out of the basinet.
"Yeah, I know I'm not who you're looking for," Warrick tells him, sympathetically. "But she's a little busy right now so how about some breakfast, little guy?"
He carries Nate off into the kitchen and peers into the fridge. It's well stocked with bottles of formula and jars of baby food; Warrick doesn't even know where to begin.
"I'm in way over my head, little man." he mutters, taking out a selection of jars and putting a bottle of milk into the microwave. He sets the jars out in a row on the counter and holds Nate in front of them. "It's your breakfast; what do you want?"
The baby looks up at Warrick cluelessly before kicking over a jar with a small foot. Warrick picks up the jar and scans the label.
"Apple and blackberry?" he reads out loud. "Excellent choice, sir." And he puts Nate into his highchair ceremoniously, grabbing a spoon and a towel.
If he'd thought picking out the food was hard enough, getting Nate to actually eat it was a whole other business. Every time Warrick tries to catch the kid out by pretending to look away until he opens his mouth, Nate snaps his mouth shut again when the loaded spoon approaches.
"Come on, Nate," Warrick pleads. "I know you miss your Mommy but you're gonna have to give me a hand here. I promise, as soon as we're done here, I'll take you to see her. How's that?"
Nate surveys Warrick thoughtfully for a while, as though considering his preposition. Then he lets his mouth fall open and Warrick triumphantly puts the spoon of apple-blackberry mush between his toothless gums.
"That wasn't so bad now was it?" Warrick grins and, imitating him, Nate's face splits with his own happy beam, laughing.
-
Since Nate kept his side of the deal and, aside from slapping a spoonful of puréed food into Warrick's unsuspecting face, finished his breakfast without a fuss, he is now strapped carefully into his car seat, heading down the freeway to Desert Palms. Warrick flips on the radio and smiles at the baby.
"What kind of stuff do you listen to, little guy?" he offers up the choice of channels. Nate struggles in his car seat and begins to whinge as radio blasts out some metal. "No? I'm not a fan either."
Warrick presses the seek button again. Nate doesn't take to country much either and actually starts to cry at the techno crap that unexpectedly floods the car. On reaching a jazz station, however, Nate settles down and even starts to kick his feet to the beat, so much so that it makes Warrick laugh.
"Good taste, little man." Warrick tells him, stroking his head lightly. "You've got the rhythm in you."
Nate is still bouncing up and down in his seat when Warrick pulls the car into the hospital parking lot. He seems to have gotten used to this guy picking him up and talking to him now so Nate is uncomplaining when Warrick lifts him out of his car seat and carries him into the sterile building.
"Hi – can you tell me where Sara Sidle's room is please?" Warrick enquires politely at the front desk while Nate tugs inquisitively on his ear before moving on to yank his hair as Warrick heads down the various corridors.
Sara perches on the edge of her bed, already fully dressed and waiting to be discharged. Nate squeals delightedly upon seeing her and Sara looks up to see Warrick and Nate come through the door. Her face lights up with a grin.
"Hey!" she sits up and beams, reaching out her arms to take baby Nate from Warrick. "I hope you behaved for your Uncle Warrick last night, baby Nate." She smiles at Warrick who shrugs.
"Besides a face-full of baby food this morning, I think I got off easy," Warrick assures her, sitting beside her with one hand falling naturally onto her knee. "How are you doing?"
Sara rolls her eyes. "Can't wait to get out of here."
Right on cue, a doctor comes in holding her chart and smiling.
"You'll have to come back here for a check-up in a couple of weeks, Ms Sidle," he tells her, handing her a prescription bag with a bottle of pain meds. "But otherwise, you can go home now." The doctor heads out the door and adds before leaving, "Be careful on the sutures."
Warrick turns to her. "Sutures? For your neck? But it wasn't deep." he frowns, concerned. Sara looks at him awkwardly and arches her eyebrows as if to say, what do you think?
His face changes. "Oh God, that's horrible."
Sara smiles wryly at his reaction and nods. "Oh well."
"I'll get you a wheelchair or something..." Warrick says, getting up. Sara grabs his hand.
"No you won't," she tells him sternly. "Don't be stupid; I'll be alright. Just get me out of here, Warrick."
He looks at her and then relents, getting her to her feet and putting an arm around her.
"Okay. Sorry," he murmurs, supporting her out.
As they're leaving, Sara notices themselves in the sliding glass doors at the hospital entrance. She sees a woman cradling a small baby in her arms, leaving with a guy who has his arm protectively around her and wears an expression of deep concern. For a moment, she's shocked by the realisation that it's herself and then she wonders why it surprises her so much. It looks right, somehow.
-
Her slow progress from Warrick's parked Tahoe up the entrance of her building is infuriatingly enough; Sara stops at foot of the stairs and looks all the way up with a sigh. She turns to Warrick who's taken Nate out of her arms and clenches her teeth in frustration and embarrassment. Apparently, the humiliation doesn't end at the rape itself.
"I didn't count on this when I bought a fifth-floor apartment," she mutters sardonically. Warrick considers her for a moment before handing her Nate.
"Here," he thrusts the baby into her arms. "I'll be really gentle, I promise." And he picks her up gingerly, one strong arm fitting easily under the crooks of her knees with the other holding her back.
"Warrick, I really don't need –" she begins, blushing slightly. He ignores her protests and carries her carefully up the stairs.
"If I hurt you at all, tell me and I'll put you down." He instructs her. "And I'll let you punch me or something."
She laughs, holding tightly onto Nate. "You're gonna regret saying that." she warns him. But he doesn't hurt her at all so she never gets the chance to make full use of his offer. He sets her down delicately outside her front door and takes Nate out of her arms as she roots in her purse for some keys.
Stepping inside her apartment, back again in the morning after, she freezes up momentarily.
Not. One. Word.
Warrick, standing close to her, can see her breathing quicken and she hugs Nate closer to her protectively.
I don't think you heard me...
"Hey," he murmurs gently, touching her elbow lightly. "It's okay, Sara. It's alright." Sara tears her eyes away from that space on her floor and looks to Warrick instead. She nods, puts on a breathless smile and shakes herself out of it.
"Thanks so much, Warrick," she says. "For everything." Warrick shrugs his shoulders.
"It's no problem," he gestures to the door. "Do you want me to...?"
"What? Leave...? Only if you want to," she answers reluctant to let him go. She doesn't know what it is; maybe it was the eerily fitting image of themselves earlier, maybe it was the thought of spending the night alone back in her apartment after what had happened, but something in her wants him to hang around a little longer.
"No, not at all," he says hurriedly. "I thought that maybe if you wanted to rest..."
"If I'm gonna rest then someone needs to look after Nate, don't you think?" she raises an eyebrow. "Are you working today?"
Warrick shakes his head. "Grissom gave me tonight off to look after you." He pauses, expecting an outburst of how she doesn't need looking after, followed by an angry phone call to Grissom to make him pay for his patronisation. Instead Sara shrugs her shoulders and smiles with what was suspiciously like shyness.
"Well that settles it then," she says finally.
-
It's night and, back on the couch again, Warrick stares up at the ceiling and smiles to himself. Sara is knocked out in her bed after taking some of the prescribed Demerol. That's some pretty heavy stuff, he thinks. He had no idea she would be needing something that strong. He feels the stab of guilt in the pit of his stomach again and throws back the blanket when he hears Nate starting to cry.
The sound of baby Nate's wailing chills the half-asleep Sara for a moment, bringing back flashes of dark memory. Her heart-rate thunders furiously for a moment and, in between waking and sleeping, she sees herself open the front door onto...onto...
Sara sits up with a gasping breath and untwists the duvet from around her, pulling herself together firmly. She begins to roll groggily out of bed when she hears another voice on the two-way baby monitor in her room.
"Shh...it's okay, Nate." Warrick soothes quietly. "What's the problem, little guy?"
"...'Rick?" Sara's uncertain and tired voice comes quietly down baby monitor in Nate's room. Warrick pauses.
"Yeah it's me," he murmurs through the monitor. He'd hoped Nate's crying hadn't woken her. He should've switched off the monitor. "It's alright; I've got it covered. I know where you keep the diapers and how to work the microwave. It's sorted, don't worry about it. You should go back to sleep. Get some rest."
Sara smiles, face buried in a pillow, and sinks back into her bed. "Thanks 'Rick." she mumbles vaguely. "I love you."
Warrick freezes. "Huh?" Even Nate's gone quiet and Warrick tentatively creeps into her bedroom. "Sara?"
Sara's fast asleep; she doesn't even know what she said or whether or not she meant it. She's drugged up on Demerol and extremely sleep-deprived. Warrick hesitates in the door way.
"Sara?" he whispers again into the gloom, not wanting to let go of what he thought she said. Sara rolls over in her bed.
"Hi, I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," she mutters, still asleep. "Do you have a minute?"
Warrick breathes a laugh and shuts the door.
"The girl even works in her sleep," he comments quietly to Nate who, having still not been changed, is not amused and peppers a few exasperated punches into Warrick's bicep to remind him that, love-struck or not, diapers don't change themselves.
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